Modern Magic
by White Phantom
Summary: In modern day Thedas, everyone knows that magic is little more than a party trick and that the stories of the magisters of old, of demons and abominations, are just that. Stories. However, there's more to those old tales than people give credit and a group of unlikely heroes is about to find out just how real magic is.
1. Calm Before The Storm

_A/N: Thank you all for reading! I hope you like the story!_

...-...

Emmi Tabris crossed her arms as she looked up at the building, ear twitching with slight irritation. If Shianni found out what she was doing, she'd go on a rampage.

Emmi had been out of work for almost two months. Her boss had treated her like shit, and she'd found that she couldn't just grin and take it. She was proud of who she was, and she deserved to be treated with respect.

And so she'd quit.

Which had been all well and good, except money made the world go 'round, and word traveled fast that she 'didn't take orders well'.

While she'd been confident in her decision at first, now a little part of her asked what good her pride would do her now that her savings were almost emptied and rent was due.

Shianni had backed her up completely, and had been helping her with the job search, even as it came up fruitless, time and time again, and while her cousin had already dismissed Emmi's concern, telling her she'd help her pay her rent or just let her move in to Shianni's apartment while Emmi figured things out, she couldn't.

Shianni was always there for her, always helping, always proud of her for what others might consider flaws.

But Emmi didn't want to have to use her as a crutch forever. She needed to get on her own two feet, needed to stop falling back on her cousin when things got hard. After all, that was a strain for Shianni, too.

And so, as her rent's deadline drew closer, she'd decided that she would try a few…unorthodox measures.

Emmi glanced down at the ad again.

 **Wanted:**  
 **volunteers 20-30, healthy**  
 **for new clinical trials**

There were a few more lines about the place and times, but nothing specified that the volunteers couldn't be elves.

And if people were doing drug tests, that meant they would need to know its effects on elves as well as humans, surely. They wouldn't turn her away.

And if they tried…

Maybe it would be better if they did.

Her large green eyes turned back toward the building. For a research facility, it was rather shabby. A few of the windows had been boarded up, and the building had to be condemned. She'd seen enough of those in her time to be sure of it.

That any type of formal research could be performed in a place that looked about as sanitary as a crack house was definitely giving her pause. If she went through with this and something bad happened, Shianni would kill her.

Assuming the drug tryouts didn't first.

If that happened, Shianni would resurrect her just to murder her again.

Even as her determination wavered, a soft chime sounded from her phone and she checked it to see a message she'd left herself, scheduled for fifteen minutes before she needed to be at the trial.

 _You have to take charge of your life. This isn't forever. Just until you get a good job._

Emmi frowned at the message from her past self, already knowing she'd listen.

With a disgruntled sigh, she put her phone away and walked into the building.

An hour later, she stepped outside a small, bright blue bandaid over an itchy lump on her arm. It had taken less than a minute to apply, the rest of the hour taken up by stacks of paperwork that made her wonder if they weren't trying to make her grow extra limbs.

She'd been the only elf and the only woman present, and it had felt a little like she was intruding on some strange, secret world that she shouldn't know about.

However, the men had left her be, save for one or two who greeted her with surprising politeness.

They'd all been taken to different rooms to have the shot applied, which felt odd, but one of the forms had mentioned some serious potential side effects, and Emmi knew how mass panic could make people think they had problems they didn't. If one person had a bad reaction, they probably hadn't wanted the rest of them to freak out.

She'd almost been tempted to stay back and count the number of people who left the building, but she doubted she was the first one done—half the shems probably hadn't even read all the paperwork, as they'd been talking like they did this all the time—so she doubted she'd get an accurate headcount, even if she could remember how many people had been there.

Shrugging it off, she began down the street toward the bus stop, checking the time to see how long she'd have to stand around waiting. This whole section of town made her skin crawl, though it was hardly the worst area. She wasn't sure what it was about it…maybe just that overwhelming feeling that she didn't belong and that no one knew where she was.

If she went missing, they'd never think to look for her out here.

The yelp that interrupted her thoughts nearly made her break out into a sprint.

However, the whimper that followed it made her ears perk up and she backtracked until she could see down an alley.

Maker, but this place was a mess. Even the buildings looked crooked, like they might fall in on each other at any second.

There was another whine.

"Hello?"

Emmi hated the way her voice shook slightly.

"Hello."

A scream strangled in her throat, coming out as a weird screeched croak as she whipped her head to the side to see a giant of a man ambling toward her.

He held his hands up as soon as she saw him, stopping in his tracks.

Taking in a deep breath, she was tempted to punch the idiot, especially when she saw the blue bandaid on his arm. Another of the test subjects.

Even as she scowled at him, he reached up to scratch behind an ear, cheeks growing redder as he mumbled a quick, sheepish apology.

His hair was short and cropped close to his head, sticking up over his forehead a little, and he had a tawny complexion, with brown eyes that looked most sympathetic.

Even as Emmi tried to think of what to say, another whine sounded, followed by a thunk, and then the sound of a chain dragging.

Emmi snapped her attention back to the alley as the man trotted closer and peered down the way as well.

At first, it was little more than shadows, even in the afternoon light, but then, slowly, as she narrowed her eyes, she saw the outline of a dog watching them from near a dumpster.

Without thinking, she walked into the alley, even as the man suggested that might not be smart—and then followed after her, so who was the real genius?

When she was close enough that she could see the dog properly, she froze. It was a mabari, though it was skin and bone, and a chain had been wrapped around its neck and chained to the dumpster. There were no signs of water or food anywhere nearby, and the collar didn't have any type of identification.

Weren't these dogs supposed to be prized possessions?

"There's a vet's a few blocks from here."

Emmi jumped, startling the dog, who hunched down, and looked over her shoulder to see the man was still there, scrolling on his smartphone. It illuminated his face eerily in the darkened alley, and she shuddered as she eyed him.

He looked embarrassed again, though he held his phone out to her. "I can carry him, if you'll be in charge of the map."

While it occurred to her that this was some elaborate trap, Emmi took one more look at the dog and decided the risk was worth it. The poor creature's neck was chaffing under the heavy metal links.

It proved surprisingly easy to get the beast loose. The chain hadn't been locked, but simply wrapped around the dumpster's handle, out of the dog's reach, over and over and over. It looked like the dog had gotten a few feet loose before the chains had been too tangled and jumbled to move.

Mabari _were_ supposed to be brilliant.

After half an hour—and missing her next bus—of working on the damned chain, they were finally able to free the poor dog. It immediately huddled closer to Emmi's feet, eyeing the human warily.

She could understand his suspicion, but the human had been decent so far—he was one of the ones who'd been kind to her during the trial, though she couldn't remember his name—and she finally leaned down and scratched behind the dog's ear. "It's alright…he's big, but I think he'll be nice."

The dog whined and eyed the man, who knelt down as well and held his hand out for the beast to sniff. "We're going to get you somewhere safe, pup."

The dog let out an indignant snort, leaning more into Emmi, but she cupped its face in her hands and caught his attention, looking into the beast's eyes, even as she vaguely remembered she shouldn't do that with strange animals. "He's right. We're going to get you somewhere safe. You hear? So be good."

Its stubby tail thumped once against the concrete. It didn't move toward the man, but made no further protest other than a soft whine when he picked it up.

Emmi had to walk swiftly to keep up with the giant of a man, even as he tried to keep his pace a bit slower than usual so that it wouldn't be such a hard thing.

"Emmi, right?" He asked as they navigated the streets. When she nodded, he tried to motion to himself with a lift of his chin. "Alistair."

She nodded, pausing to tell him when to turn onto another street.

Silence returned.

"So, seeing as you're in one piece, I'd guess your joining went well, too?" When Emmi's gaze rolled slowly toward him, he shrugged, a lopsided grin in place. "The drug test. I heard some people joking about a joining, like the Grey Wardens of old. I think they were trying to make it sound more dangerous than it was."

He rambled on another moment before falling quiet again.

Emmi sighed. "Suppose it does make it a bit of an adventure, doesn't it?" When Alistair perked up, she rolled her eyes again. "Calling it a joining?"

"Right?" His grin was back, and then he was talking about Grey Wardens.

While he did know more than the average high school history course taught, Emmi wasn't overly impressed. The Order had been a wild one, in the text books were accurate. Drinking blood and fighting corrupted dragons and…all manner of madness.

Even as she wondered if this was some sort of ill omen about what she'd been injected with, Alistair stopped mid-sentence to turn toward a building they'd nearly walked past.

"Here we are."

...-…

"… _in ancient times, it was believed that some people had access to the ethereal. Mages, they were called. They_ …"

"'Mages, they were called.' Like we don't all know that."

Marian Hawke tossed a piece of popcorn at the TV, stifling a giggle when her fiancé told her that she'd better pick it up. Before she could think of some witty retort, Sebastian curled over her, crystal blue eyes peering down into hers. His voice had that heavenly Starkhaven lilt to it that had caught her attention years ago at the local Chantry when she'd been visiting. He'd sat at the corner of the couch and she'd sprawled across it, her head in his lap and the bowl of popcorn resting on the armrest near them.

"Love, do you want roaches?"

With a scoff, Marian rolled her eyes and shifted around where she lay, looking up at him with as cross a look as she could muster. "It will be cleaned up before there are any roaches."

With a sigh, he ran his fingers through her short cropped, black hair, and then kissed her forehead. "Remember to get the butter off the screen."

"Tyrant."

He simply rolled his eyes and sat back, though Marian slipped up and gathered the piece of popcorn where it had fallen before swiping her sleeve across the TV screen. "Just for you."

"Truly, you are a selfless giver," he called as she trotted into the kitchen to toss out the offending kernel.

When she got back, she hopped down onto the couch beside him, missing the disappointed look he gave her when she didn't curl up the way she had been in his lap. "So what did I miss?"

The narrator of the documentary was droning on about how magic was said to give the ability to manipulate the physical world in ways that were completely impossible.

She frowned. She'd been hoping that this newest addition to the great annals of history might provide more insight on the arcane, but once again it looked like it was going to be more of the same old repeated with almost the same theories and phrases.

"You know," she began after Sebastian told her they'd just named the scholars who would be providing insight. They'd be introduced again as they came up. "My family has a long history of magic."

"So you say," Sebastian murmured, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and tugging her closer.

Fumbling in her pocket, she pulled out a box of matches, ignoring as Sebastian asked her to make sure not to set off the fire alarm this time. Holding one up, she grinned at him and then splayed her fingers above the little stick. There was a spark and then a tiny flame danced on the top of the match before snuffing out on its own.

Ever since she was a little girl, she and Bethany had been able to do it, and she could still remember a five-year-old Carver crying because he couldn't.

She lit another match with the same motion, grinning as it flickered a second and then blinked out, like the first.

"You truly put the magisters of old to shame," Sebastian teased, kissing the top of her ear.

"Do you think they could really conjure fireballs?"

Leaning his head back, she watched the way his adam's apple bobbed as she swallowed, considering her words. Before she could reach out to run her fingers down his throat, however, he lifted his head and shrugged. "I suppose with enough kindle, someone could make what you do look like a full ball of fire."

She slumped against him, gaze wandering to the screen where some stuffy old prat was going on about the mysteries of the past. "You think it was just tricks?"

"Well, the Chantry does say magic used to be more prominent…" He hesitated looked at her, hand running gently up the back of her head so that he could play with her hair. "Maybe if you keep trying, you'll pull one off." Even as she cackled at that, he leaned his head toward her, pulling her to him until their foreheads touched. "Just promise me one thing: no taking over the world?"

With a dramatic huff, Marian rolled her eyes and then sat up a bit straighter, as though he was impressing some great burden upon her. "I'll think about it."

Sebastian laughed, shaking his head, and turning his attention back to the documentary. "Best mage ever."

…-…

Aleeri Adaar slowed their jeep as they wound up what was little more than a dirt trail. He and Dagna were in the middle of the Frostback Mountains and both of them were regretting their vehicle of choice. They'd done their research about the mountains, and seeing as it was summer, they'd figured that it would be alright to go with a less insulated vehicle, something that could travel the rough terrain quickly, without the extra weight of warmth.

It was colder than they'd expected it to be.

Dagna had dug out the blankets and formed herself a nice little nest, but Aleeri couldn't very well do that and drive.

"What does it say the temperature is?" He huffed, shuddering. The thermometer on the dash wasn't displaying correctly.

Tapping on her phone, Dagna shrunk a little more into her blankets. "It says it's forty."

Aleeri narrowed his eyes at the uneven ground ahead. There was no way it was that warm. They could see their breath.

It had started to get like this that morning, when they'd turned into the final valley before their destination.

The two of them were headed on what would likely be another wild goose chase, searching for evidence of all that lost magic.

Dagna had known him forever, since before he'd come out or started wearing binders. In fact, she was the first person he'd come out to, and she'd been so enthusiastic about helping him in whatever way she could.

She'd been his light at the end of the tunnel, and in the end, he'd been her best man at her wedding to Sera.

They'd been roommates for a while, and then flat mates after that—until the wedding. Then he'd given the happy couple their space, finding himself a new apartment with the third member of their expedition, Thom Rainier.

Thom was an amazing man, and Aleeri counted himself lucky that they'd met. He and Dagna had gotten their in Magical Theory, taking on the rather unpopular stance that the Veil and demons were real, but the legend of the Inquisitor strengthening the Veil to stop the Dread Wolf from destroying the world had some truth to it, and that if the Veil _could_ be breached, magic could be accessed again.

Thom's Ph.D was in Darkspawn Studies, another widely denounced field, as there hadn't been any darkspawn sightings in ages. The Grey Wardens were regarded dubiously by many historians, though Thom was adamant that they had been heroes.

He was sure of it.

He was supposed to have come out with them, but had been tied up in Denerim getting a few last permits and paperwork in order for their trip.

About a year prior, an old castle had been found in the mountains, and some people speculated it might be the fabled Skyhold. If it was real, then that meant it was where the Veil had supposedly been made and strengthened.

In that case, surely two experts in magic and an expert with a minor in ritualistic magical practices of darkspawn would be able to find traces.

Proof.

As they finally crested the top of their current hill—mountain, whatever—Aleeri unthinkingly slammed on the breaks, jaw dropping.

Dagna let out a soft gasp, though it wasn't from the abrupt stop.

There, a few miles away, nestled in the middle of the valley, was an old castle that towered up as though made on top of a tiny mountain itself. The towers still stood, though any tapestries that might have waved in the wind had no doubt long since rotted away.

Still…

If this was really Skyhold…

A small hand hit his shoulder, and Aleeri turned to see Dagna grinning at him, eyes sparkling.

"Let's go find some magic."


	2. Gathering Clouds

Emmi's head hurt as she walked up to the park, the morning light a bit too bright for her. Honestly, she would have just stayed in bed all day, except that Fluff, the formerly abandoned mabari, had been insistent that she not.

More and more, nightmares left her tossing and turning all night, for weeks now. The nightmares felt like they were getting more and more…vivid. She still couldn't remember much of them once she was awake, but she would wake up terrified, certain that there were creatures near that shouldn't be.

She was pretty sure it was a result of that drug test, yet when she'd gone in for her last check up, they'd told her not to worry about it.

They had muttered to each other, though, and Emmi was half tempted not to go back. Something about all of this was making her uneasy.

But then, the pay was good, and she still hadn't found a new job. She needed an even better one, now that she was looking after Fluff. Despite figuring that she'd go to a good home or something, the vet had contacted her, saying that her human friend had declined the beast, and they were going to have to send her to the pound if she couldn't take her, because no one else was looking for her.

Bastards.

So she'd taken the mabari home and named her—she'd been surprised to learn the giant beast was a lady—Fluff because it made her neighbor, Orana, giggle. The beast was anything but fluffy.

Indeed, the one good thing that had come out of the tests—aside from the money—was Fluff.

Shianni had found out about what she'd done after Emmi brought Fluff home, wanting to know where she could have _possibly_ found an abandoned mabari.

She was pissed off at her for doing something so idiotic. While Emmi pointed out that she was making money and now had a dog that the whole building loved—well, maybe three people—Shianni was still hovering every chance she got, commenting on Emmi's complexion and her energy and little things that Emmi wouldn't have noticed, worried that something might go horribly wrong.

She hadn't told Shianni about the nightmares yet, but it was just a matter of time until she found out. Then Emmi would never hear the end of it.

At least she'd have Fluff to cuddle with as she was berated.

The beast in question trotted along happily at Emmi's side, ears perked as she looked about the small square mile of land dotted with a few trees and benches along the edge of the jogging path, searching for anything of interest. Emmi had rather expected to be dragged through the park by the dog the second she saw something to chase, but she'd sat with Fluff at the park's edge on the first day and explained that she was not to go tearing off on her own.

While she wasn't sure talking to the dog actually did anything, when she was done, Fluff had let out a sharp, deep bark.

Ever since, the dog kept pace at Emmi's side as though she had been trained to do so.

The idea that a person could train a dog so thoroughly and then abandon them like this broke Emmi's heart, and so she liked to pretend that Fluff had figured this out all on her own.

Mabari were supposed to be smart, anyway.

Smart enough to keep pace, but not smart enough to let a poor, weary soul sleep.

As Emmi tilted her head back, willing her headache to go away, she glanced up toward the sky, and froze.

There were cracks in the sky overhead, jagged and bold and…endless. They crisscrossed each other, like lightning strikes frozen in motion, though they ran deeper, darker, above the clouds, breaking apart the endless blue overhead as though it was a children's jigsaw puzzle.

A tremor swept through those broken pieces, making them shudder and quake, and fracture further into smaller and smaller pieces.

Never before had she felt as though there was a weight upon her like she did now. It was all she could do not to cringe into the ground and pray that everything didn't start tumbling down.

Dear Gods, the sky was going to fall apart.

Fluff let out a soft whine, shifting her weight into Emmi's legs to get her attention.

Emmi nearly fell over, jerking her attention back to the rest of the world before looking up again.

Whatever she'd seen, it was gone.

Instead of those odd, eerie cracks, the sky was perfect and blue, dotted with a few lazy clouds that looked as benign as cotton candy.

This didn't make sense.

Even as she glanced around, looking to see if anyone else had seen it, Fluff nudged her again, and she took in a shaky breath, a bit of reason finally seeping in.

Of course no one had seen it. After all, the sky couldn't fall. It was infinite space or…something of that nature.

It went on forever, and if she wasted much more time looking at it, Fluff was going to topple her in her impatience.

Their walk was shorter than usual, as Emmi's head hurt and her heart wouldn't quite settle after what she'd seen—thought she'd seen. After all, even looking up every few seconds hadn't reconjured that horrifying image, and so she finally decided to go somewhere where looking up wouldn't matter.

Home.

As she headed into her building, a cheerful voice called out her name, and she turned to see Orana waving to her from her first-floor window. She leaned out it as Emmi and Fluff drew closer. Then, even as she started to say something, she interrupted herself, perking up and clasping her hands together. "Oh, I've something for Miss Fluff! I'll tell you in the hall."

Before Emmi could say a word, Orana was back in her apartment, hurrying off.

With a sigh, Emmi headed toward the entrance to their complex, giving Fluff a warning look. "If it's a bone, you can't eat it now."

Though the mabari let out a soft whine of disapproval, Emmi could swear the beast resolved herself to obey.

Emmi considered it would be a good distraction to see if Fluff actually followed her direction.

Orana practically greeted them at the front door, all smiles and sparkles in her eyes as she knelt in front of Fluff, reaching out and wrapping her slender arms around the mabari. Leaning her head against the elf's, Fluff snuffled her shirt and let out a happy whine.

Of all the people who had been affected by Emmi's taking in the burly creature, it seemed to help Orana the most. She was from up north and though she never talked about it, she'd been through something awful. Before Fluff, she would timidly come out of her apartment to attend building meetings or a few get togethers, but for the most part she was a shut in. She worked cleaning around the building and a few of the apartments, but rarely left the complex.

Shianni and Emmi tended to get her groceries for her.

However, Fluff…the beast brought out some innocent hope in her that had been buried deeply under years of pain and loss.

And Ghilan'nain's creations, but she loved peppering Fluff with any sort of treat or treasure she could find.

Emmi sometimes wondered if Orana alone was the reason that Fluff had gained back their weight.

As Orana finally let the great war dog go, she rummaged in her pocket and pulled out a pretty, pink bow. Even as Emmi protested, Orana clipped it onto Fluff's collar and then leaned back, letting out a squeal of delight. "Oh, it looks perfect on her, don't you think?"

Regardless of what Emmi thought, she couldn't damned well argue with either Orana's or Fluff's puppy eyes.

"You know she's a war dog."

Orana stood up delicately, brushing a few wrinkles out of her jeans. "I don't see any wars around here." Even as she stood, she was reaching to scratch behind Fluff's ears. "And every girl deserves to feel pretty sometimes."

Fluff let out a low woof of agreement, stubby tail wagging.

Even as Orana's eyes glittered, she paused, glancing back at Emmi. "Oh, before I forget…" Fluff was nudging Orana's nearest hand, and the elf continued to pet the beast while she talked. "There was a man here for you." Her fingers stilled mid-pat, and she shuddered. "Some shem. Banged on your door very loudly." She glanced down. "I should have taken a message, but…"

"It's alright, sounds like a prick anyway," Emmi offered, smiling when Orana looked up sheepishly at her, a whisper of a smile in place as she nodded.

"It was quite a racket. Stormed off after a bit, on the phone." She paused, holding her hands over her heart. "He had a symbol on his suit…what was it…? Something old. I'm sorry."

Emmi patted Orana's shoulder gently as Fluff nudged her hand to encourage more attention. "I'll go see if the ass had sense enough to leave a note, then."

Orana wished her well and then gave Fluff one last hug before heading into her apartment—as she closed the door, she waved at Fluff, that same glee from earlier in her eyes.

As they walked to their apartment, Emmi nudged Fluff playfully. "Look at you, making the world a better, brighter place."

Fluff let out a pleased ruff as she held her head a little higher, a bit more of a prance in her step.

Once in their apartment, Emmi gave Fluff her leash to put up—which the dog carried off dutifully to hang upon the hook on the coatrack that had been given specifically to her—and then emptied her pockets, pausing when she saw that she had a missed call.

The name Alistair read beneath the Missed Call, and Emmi scowled as she remembered Orana saying the man who'd scared her had left on the phone. Tired as she was, the conclusion seemed quite obvious, and she called him back with a swift vengeance.

"Hello?"

The second he picked up, she was fuming. "Were you the one who came by today?"

"I—what?"

Emmi missed the concern in his voice as she kept going. "Some shem prat came by here, making a fuss and scaring my neighbor! If it was you or one of the guys from the trials…" While they weren't overly close, she had made friends with a few of them during their weeks of passing one another—mostly thanks to Alistair's friendliness, really—though she couldn't recall telling any of them where she lived…

"Em, listen," Alistair said, voice dropping so low that she doubted human ears would have been able to hear him. "Something odd's going on. Daveth thought he was being followed the other night, and Jory hasn't answered his phone in three days. Just…it's probably nothing, but please be careful."

She felt a pang of guilt for having yelled at him so quickly. After all, in the weeks she'd known him, he'd never been anything other than a good sort.

But who else would have come looking for her? She didn't owe money to anyone, and she couldn't think of a single other reason a human would be there looking for her.

Unless they had her mixed up with another elf.

That was the most likely scenario.

"Em?"

"I'll be fine. I've got Fluff on the lookout." As soon as she said that, Fluff let out a deep bark, trotting back to her and sitting, wagging her tail when Emmi told her that Alistair was on the phone. Fluff liked him now that she was healthy. Alistair mumbled something that sounded relieved, and Emmi couldn't help a slight smile. "Is that why you called?"

"I just…I wanted to make sure you weren't missing, too." Then, without missing a beat, he laughed awkwardly. "I, uh, well. Clearly you're fine, so. I'll, uh…"

"I'll talk to you later." Fluff let out an affirmative boof, and she could practically hear Alistair's smile on the other end of the line.

"Alright. Later."

As soon as she hung up, she cursed quietly. Why hadn't she thought to ask him if he was having any weird visions, like seeing the sky ready to crumble?

She knew the others were having nightmares, so for all she knew, this was just another side effect of the tests.

Even as she eyed her phone, finger hovered over the call button, she sighed.

He was already on edge with the others. It wouldn't help anyone to add to that.

After all, it wasn't like the sky could really fall.

…-…

Slumping down into his chair, Aleeri frowned at his notepad, and then at the various equipment set up around him. Most of their materials were set up in the courtyard or the main hall of the building, as those were the most stable parts of the old castle.

There were murals in a partially collapsed rotunda that seemed a homage to the adventures of the legendary Inquisition who fought against the great Dread Wolf from Dalish lore, though, most of these images seemed to deal with more practical fights, one looking eerily like a reference to Orlesian nobility. Another portrayed what Thom thought was a darkspawn.

There were wolves, too, but none of them seemed particularly dreadful.

That alone had been worth the trip, even if they couldn't quite figure out what the murals were supposed to represent—he had a few historian friends back at the university who were cursing themselves for not being able to take time off to come out and see this place.

Even Sera was jealous. She and Dagna facetimed every night, and occasionally Dagna would come in to where Thom and Aleeri were so that the four of them could chat for a while.

This place had definitely belonged to the Inquisition, though. The windows that were still intact bore that spectacular eye with the sword behind it.

Aleeri hoped that this place could be restored, maybe even opened to the public at some point, though that wouldn't happen any time soon, and honestly, they'd probably lose a lot of the historical touches trying to rebuild it and make it stable.

The castle was beautiful though.

Unlike the odd chill that was in the air in the valley, Skyhold—they went ahead and called it that, even if it might be disproven somehow later—was warmer. The occasional gust of wind still left them wearing their coats most days, but the snow melted inside the walls and Aleeri and Dagna had been certain it was proof of magic.

Except that they couldn't find any.

They'd searched every inch of the castle that they dared, yet there were no clear signs of magic. There were a few ridiculously ancient texts that had somehow withstood the wear of time. They were in an older tongue and while they did talk of magic, they were so old that Aleeri and Dagna didn't dare flip through them too much, instead working to preserve them until they could make it back to Denerim.

There were no mysterious runes on the walls or green-glowing firelight or…anything.

Just a vague notion that something was…different here.

Well, that notion and the massive sealed door that led down to the lower chambers.

It was dwarven made, and likely inches upon inches thick. None of them had been able to get the door to budge, not even a groan to let them know their efforts were doing _something_.

Aleeri glanced past his equipment to the door in question. It stood at the far end of the hall. They'd put their equipment near an old fireplace, and as it was on the same wall as the door, it made inspecting anything other than the frame impossible from this angle. Even so, there was something eerie about it.

When it had just been him and Dagna, they hadn't even tried to open the door, deciding that if they were in a horror movie, that was the last thing they wanted to do. While they'd laughed it off, there was something unsettling about that damned thing.

The first thing Thom had asked when he got there was what was behind it. Dagna had merely shrugged and said, "You know how these old places work. Whoever opens the door gets cursed. We figured, since we're the leading minds on magical anomalies and the practical existence therein, it would do best if _you_ got cursed, and we studied you."

They'd all laughed at that, though Thom had merely given them a dramatic bow and promised not to disappoint them.

The door hadn't budged, and after it went unmoving for Thom, the three of them had tried together before giving up, and Aleeri was surprised at how relieved he was that it wouldn't open.

As he turned to examine the different machines around him for any evidence that they might have detected something around them, he considered that if they didn't find any evidence here, they'd likely get the ghost hunter treatment when they got home.

Sometimes he felt like they were already there, despite the people who still claimed that the search for magic was a respectable one.

Even as he wondered if this would lead to funding cuts, he saw a flash of something dart into one of the halls opposite that sealed door, at the far end of the massive chamber.

"Thom?" He called out slowly. The figure had been too tall to be his dwarven friend, and yet, when no one responded, he still found himself calling out, "Dagna?"

When silence met him, he got out of his chair and walked slowly toward the far end of the main hall, his footfalls sounded unusually loud in his ears.

"Aleeri?"

He nearly jumped out of his skin as he heard his name called from behind him, and whirled around to see both Thom and Dagna standing there, looking surprised.

If they were both there…

Steeling himself, Aleeri turned and strode the last few yards to the hall he'd seen the shadow near, peering down it with false bravado to see an empty, crumbling hall. It led to a large room with a half rotted wooden table in the center, though parts of the ceiling had given out years ago, and none of them felt safe staying in there for long.

Of course it was empty. Even if there had been some animal or something, did he expect something moving that quickly to wait for him to happen upon it?

With a sigh, he told himself that it had just been a trick of the light or some animal made to seem far bigger than it was because of the angle and lighting and whatever else so that it wasn't nearly so foreboding.

It wasn't until he was falling asleep that night that he wondered if perhaps that was the sign they were looking for, their hint of magic.

In the morning, he was going to wander through the ruins again, and see if he couldn't find something they'd missed before.

There had to be something here. There had to be.

…-…

The door to Meredith Stannard's office swung open even as one of her knight-templars babbled some protest before drawing to an awkward silence as the owner of the footsteps he'd been chasing stopped.

Meredith finished typing up her latest report and then closed her laptop, smiling calmly at the younger, blonde woman who wore a perfectly fitting business suit standing on the other side of her desk.

"Prime Minister Anora," she greeted the younger woman with as warm a voice as she could muster, though the edges still felt sharp, even in her ears. "I was not expecting—"

"You tried to send my father nonsense about demons." Anora held out a hand and the sharply dressed elf beside her, who in turn presented the prime minister with a few papers from a folder. "It is common knowledge that my father has not been well, and you would seek to rile him up with…this!"

Meredith's gaze followed the papers as they were thrown onto her desk, the words familiar to her even without reading them all.

Loghain Mac Tir, while not quite the man he used to be, was still seen as a war hero by many in Ferelden, and more than that, he had ties with the military there, ties she'd hoped to use to her advantage.

"If not your father, perhaps you can assist me."

"Of all the gall," Anora hissed, stepping closer to the desk and leaning against it. She was used to having the power in Ferelden, of commanding respect.

Meredith glanced at her templars at the door. Both of them had their hands resting on the guns at their hips. With a slight dip of her chin, they eased up, glancing at one another and then back at her, before finally turning their attentions back to Anora and her assistant, Erlina.

Ever since the…incident nearly two months ago, the whole of the Gallows had been up in arms, overly cautious of every stranger who turned up on their doorstep, and closing themselves off from all save other templars. The Knight-Divine was expected in the next few days, and it was imperative that things be as they should for his arrival.

No doubt, her subordinates feared Anora's visit would put a hiccup in their plans.

It wouldn't.

If anything, this might save them time.

"I would reason with you here, but I can see that you are both a practical sort, so let me take you for walk…" She paused as she stepped past them and into the hall to see half a dozen guards bearing the Mac Tir sigil on their breast pocket.

The dark green of their uniforms stood in stark comparison to the grays of the templars' military gear. They'd been opting to wear heavier gear of late—particularly interceptor body armor—even if it did tire them out more than usual.

Well, it had used to.

That was before Meredith had found her way into the ancient stock rooms beneath the Gallows.

While the upper levels of the building had been redesigned to make more of a training barracks for recruits to the Order—fewer and fewer as they were becoming in recent years as the Chantry lost popularity with the younger generations—the lower levels had merely been reinforced to make sure the whole building wouldn't collapse, and many of the store rooms hadn't even been emptied.

That was where she'd found the advantage they were going to need in the upcoming months.

"Where are we going?" Anora demanded as they came to the stairs leading down.

Meredith stopped, waving a hand as several of her guards went for their weapons again and eying the young ruler. Since her husband's death, she'd done wonders with her country, even running and claiming the title of Prime Minister herself. It was impressive to see how well she was doing, though Meredith knew that she wouldn't be easy to persuade.

Not without proof.

After all, she reminded Meredith of herself. A powerful woman who didn't put up with rubbish.

"There's something I need to show you. Your guards are welcome to follow, though I would ask that they be careful."

And with that, they headed down. She saw Anora's gaze falter but once, before she had matched Meredith's pace. "You sent letters saying that there were _demons_ running loose to my father."

"I did."

"Why?"

"Because there are." Meredith stopped in front of a large glass panel. Maker knew what the room had been used for before—likely it'd been some started project that was abandoned when the lower regions of the former Circle proved too eerie for the superstitious builders' tastes. Whatever the reason, it was a useful tool to Meredith, and she thanked the Maker for it.

Nodding to one of her templars, he took in an unsteady breath and then reached to his belt, pulling free a small vial filled with blue liquid. He gulped it down and then turned and entered the chamber beyond the glass as he flicked on the lights.

They flickered dimly, not wanting to come to life fully, but they could still see the thing hanging against the far wall in shackles.

"Who is that poor wo—" Erlina's voice cut off as the templar hit the figure with a spell interrupt.

The lights grew brighter as the figure twisted, growing taller as long horns snaked out of its head, and a longer tail seemed to grow as well. Its skin was a pale-ish purple, with darker speckles along its arms and across its scantily clad form that dark color pooling along its unnaturally long fingers and feet, and its eyes…

Its eyes were clamped shut in pain, though Meredith knew damned well what they looked like. She nodded to her templar, and he darted out of the chamber, flicking the light off and locking the door several times over before stepping back as though he still expected the beast to follow him out.

She led them back out of the former dungeon before turning to the visitors and smiling thinly. "Now that we're all on the same page, let's talk."

"It…" Erlina shivered. "It looked like an elven woman, bloodied and bruised."

Anora blinked, looking at her assistant, surprised. "I saw Cailan."

"It does that," Meredith murmured, sighing as she realized she was still going to have to explain more than she wanted to. "It takes on whatever form it thinks will make it most sympathetic to whoever is looking at it…unless its magic can be disrupted somehow." Meredith shook her head. "I always see its true form as that of a young man, but I'm told most of my soldiers see it as a young woman."

Anora glanced back, as though she might head back to get another look at the thing. "But what is it?"

"A desire demon." As Anora's gaze snapped back toward her, Meredith merely arched her brow. "If you had asked me two months ago what I thought of demons, I would have laughed you out of this building for wasting my time. However, matters have changed. That thing was one of three that attacked us two months ago. As of now we still have more questions than answers, though I'd hoped your father might be able to help me with that."

Anora stared toward the stairs leading down another moment before shaking her head. "I don't understand. My father never encountered anything like that."

"No," Meredith agreed with a curt shake of her head. "However, there is someone who has who resides in Aeonar Asylum. I was hoping to arrange a visit with him."

Anora hesitated a breath before nodding slowly. "You said there were more of those things?"

"We killed the other two, but this one keeps talking about cracks in the Veil. Keeps telling us that we won't have a leg to stand on, soon enough."

With a slow nod, Anora glanced at Erlina, who was on her phone in a breath. "When would you like to go?"


	3. The Makings of a Thunder Storm

A/N: Thank you for reading!

...-...

Skyhold was bust. Whatever magic might have been there—might still be there for all Aleeri knew—was going to keep its mysteries to itself.

None of their equipment could pick up anything, and Aleeri was worried about that figure he'd seen. Even when he and the others had gone searching for whatever might have been the culprit, they couldn't find anything.

However, their supplies were running short, and their permits to be in this part of the Frostbacks were about to expire.

Now that they'd found Skyhold, they could likely get them renewed with more ease, and return with a few historians and the like, but having to leave so emptyhanded still felt like a defeat.

The wind whispered through the main hall's door after him, and he shivered as he went to take the next packed box back to the car. Even as he stopped to wipe some sweat from his brow—they were on a tight schedule because they'd waited for the last possible minute to leave—and then bent to pick up one of the smaller suitcases, the wind breezed past him, a bit stronger than usual.

He took the wind as an excuse to glance around, not wanting to have to go back down and then back up the steps just yet.

Aleeri wasn't sure what it was that caught his attention—he couldn't see much of the damned thing from this angle—but somehow, he knew. Setting down the suitcase, he wandered down the main hall, moving toward the left side so that he could eye that damned door on the right.

He stopped when he was close to it, staring blankly.

The door was open.

Swallowing, he stared at the yawning darkness that led down into the depths of the castle.

Of course it went down, didn't it? As if merely being open wasn't ominous enough…

After a moment's debate, he pulled out his phone to get a quick picture of it, in case it somehow sealed in the time it would take to get his camera unpacked.

However, as he sent Dagna and Blackwall a few of the pictures and told them to get their asses back, he turned and found that he was no longer alone.

A figure, a gorgeous lady, stood in the middle of the hallway, sauntering slowly toward him in such a way that her hips rocked back and forth.

Sensual as she was, that wasn't the weirdest of it.

She was a Qunari.

Aleeri tilted his head. He'd have wondered what another person was doing out here at all, but for them to be Qunari…

The chances were considerably slimmer.

She was close enough that he could see the easy smile playing on her lips, that come-hither look in her gorgeous, golden eyes.

Damn…

Even as he tried to find his voice to ask who she was, a small, flashing light caught his attention. One of the few pieces of equipment they hadn't packed yet because it was an easy feat and they figured they'd keep it out, in a vain attempt to capture some flicker of magic as they left.

With barely a thought, Aleeri held up his phone to take a picture of the woman.

Except that where she was, the image contorted and shifted, like there was nothing there.

He snapped a picture anyway, flash still on from taking pics of the dark stairway.

In a breath, he wasn't looking at a gorgeous woman anymore.

Instead, her skin had turned pale purple, with darker purple spots, and a long tail flicking behind her as she stopped, tensing fingers that looked like damned claws.

Her horns had been real, at least.

Not that those were Qunari horns.

Fuck.

It took his scattered mind a second to realize what this had to be.

A desire demon.

His phone still distorted the image around the creature, and as he met the creature's gaze, it dawned on him that perhaps the reason they couldn't find proof of magic was because it couldn't be quantified with science.

That realization was quickly forgotten as it sunk in that there was a fucking demon between him and the way out.

As he tensed, so did the demon, hunching a little, tail flicking faster as those white, slit pupils focused on him so completely.

"Your last moments could have been pure bliss," the creature purred in a voice that was far too beautiful for her. "They still could be, if you'd like."

Her form shimmered, like she might take on the look of the Qunari woman again.

"You squandered your chance to be useful."

The voice was deep, and Aleeri didn't know who it was talking to, though as he looked around, he found that the desire demon had vanished, as though she had merely been a horrifying illusion or hallucination.

However, even as he relaxed a little, wondering if he'd spent too long in this old place after all, a movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention and he whirled toward it, thinking that maybe the demon was real after all.

Some shadowy thing stood at the top of the steps, with Dagna over its shoulder. Even as he saw it, it turned and descended down the steps.

Aleeri glanced around the hall again. It was empty.

How had Dagna gotten up here…? Had she come in while he was staring at…

No. No, no, no.

Not—

He was a dozen steps down when his phone chimed, still in his hand.

Despite the urge not to, he glanced down, thinking that if nothing else, he could recruit Blackwall as backup.

 _We're about done with the stuff out here, if you need help inside._

The text was from Dagna.

Even as he realized that Dagna couldn't be in much distress if she was texting him about packing up, he heard a soft, sickeningly gentle laugh in his ear.

"You're a hard one to keep focused." That too beautiful voice purred in his ear.

As he tried to look over his shoulder, something slammed into his back between his shoulder blades and he went tumbling down the stairs.

When he hit the bottom of the stairs, Aleeri groaned, trying to steady himself.

Miraculously enough, he hadn't seemed to have hurt himself too badly, almost as though he'd been protected somehow…

The miracle of it wore off rather quickly. When he looked up, his breath caught in his chest.

Another creature that he'd only ever seen scrawled across old parchment and in tattered, falling-to-pieces texts stood further in the room.

No.

Not stood, hovered.

Spiderlike limps curled around from its back, and what had to be tentacles draped down from its face where its eyes should have been. Its body itself was wraithlike, too thin, too pale, and adorned in tattered robes.

Slender fingers looped around one of Aleeri's arms and dragged him to his feet, guiding him forward.

"Do not waste his blood," snapped the deeper voice, coming from the fear demon. The other demon let out a humph in response, but kept going.

As he was drawn further into the room, runes and circular patterns flickered to life across the worn stones.

The desire demon stopped just short of it, tilting her head as she inspected them and then nodded.

Aleeri examined it too, a little too stunned from the fall to really grasp what was happening. He'd seen images like this before, not this one specifically, but…

This was a ritual of sacrifice.

Panic should have filled him at that, and yet…somehow instead his mind went back to his earlier college years, sitting with Dagna and Sera in the library as they worked on their papers. Sera had always made faces when they talked about blood magic, saying it was 'icky' and 'wrong'.

This sort of spell, though…

This had been the sort of thing that had made Sera promise them not to talk to her about too much magic, as this had terrified her to think that people had even considered this might be real—as much as Sera loved her wife and Aleeri, too, she was not a believer in the arcane.

This sort of spell was triggered with blood.

With barely any thought, Aleeri snapped his elbow into the desire demon's face as hard as he could.

She stumbled forward, feet brushing over the symbols on the floor. Even as she hissed at him, he jerked downward, his horn nicking her arm as she darted backwards, further into the runic circle.

Aleeri heard the angry hisses from both demons, though that mattered a hell of a lot less than the fact that the runes had begun to change color.

Without giving either demon time to get their bearings, he whirled away and bolted up the stairs.

He'd wanted to see magic, the kind where lightning manifested out of nowhere, where people could heal or protect or…

He'd never wanted to see the darker side of it.

He and Dagna had agreed, let the darker aspects stay buried. They'd just wanted proof that magic was real, that it was indeed a part of history, and not simply old legends.

Aleeri could see the main hall when something like a massive wind slammed into him from behind, lifting him off his feet and flinging him forward.

…-…

"I know you're trying to find a new job," Shianni started as she sauntered along beside Emmi and Fluff. Her red hair was done in half a dozen small braids resting over and through her short hair. Even as Emmi rolled her eyes, Shianni frowned. "But we were thinking about going to the next town meeting to talk about those creeps who keep coming by. Maybe you wanna come with us?"

Emmi shifted a little, trying not to feel paranoid as she glanced around.

The trials had been cut to a rather abrupt end.

While she'd known it wouldn't last forever, the way they'd been talking not two weeks ago had made it sound like they were only halfway through.

And then she'd received a notice that the trials had lost its funding. She'd gone to the building to see what was going on, only to find Duncan there. She'd glanced around for Alistair, but he'd been nowhere to be found, so instead, she'd nodded to the older man. He was always a good sort, like Alistair. When she asked, he'd simply frowned and shaken his head, saying he was the last one to do his last checkup.

She'd asked him a bit about why it was ending now, and he'd said something about the prime minister's administration coming down on medical trials and the like, though he'd assured her that he figured everything was fine.

Duncan had offered to drive her home, ever the gentleman, but as soon as they got in his car, his good humor had vanished. He'd told her that she shouldn't have come to the clinic, and that people were going missing.

Jory, Daveth, there were other names, but those were the two that caught her attention. Alistair had brought them up, hadn't he?

Even as she tried to keep up with Duncan as he told her that there was a lot going on that he wasn't sure about, but vigilance was required. He'd given her a number to call in case of emergencies when he'd dropped her off.

She'd asked him questions—whether Alistair was alright, if the man who had come by her apartment and upset Orana might be like the person who had followed Daveth, and a few others about how people were last seen and the like—but she'd forgotten about the sky.

Indeed, she'd spent the next week watching for people tailing her as she went back out into the world to find a new job, and almost forgotten about the sky until she'd looked up one night on the way home.

The cracks were back, and she could swear some of the pieces were sagging, not out of place yet, but definitely shifting lower, as though they were ready to come crashing down. The fractures had been more prevalent and had somehow stood out against the night sky, fracturing the constellations she'd grown up learning.

The one that ran through Sylaise made her shudder in particular, and she'd hurried home to call Duncan and ask if he'd seen this stuff.

The number he'd given her was disconnected.

She'd called every other member of the trials she could think of, including a few of the doctors.

The only number that had gone through had been Alistair's, and he hadn't picked up. Every other one was disconnected.

And then she found out that there were people—shem men—hanging around the complex for the last week. Orana had said they wore the same insignia as the man who had startled her—a flaming sword sewn over their left breast pocket of their business suits.

Even as Emmi had wondered what the hell that meant—wasn't the flaming sword something to do with the Chantry's old military?—Shianni had assured her she was fine.

The men weren't there for her, and even if one did bang on her door before, it was likely a mistake.

Apparently, one of their other neighbors, an elf's historical protection activist named Velanna, had been causing waves lately with a few of her protests, and it was decided by everyone in the apartment that the shems were keeping an eye on her, waiting for her to screw up.

Emmi felt terrible, but she almost wished that was true. After all, she and Velanna didn't quite run in the same circles, but she liked the other elf well enough. She cared so much about protecting their heritage, and Emmi thought it was important, too, but she wasn't about to chain herself to an old Vhenadahl to keep people from cutting it down.

It felt selfish wishing for someone else to be followed instead of her, but Velanna didn't do anything wrong, so if that was the case, they'd figure that out on their own and go away eventually…without making someone disappear.

Something was going on alright, but Emmi had a feeling Shianni was wrong about it.

"Would you pay attention?"

"Something weird is going on."

"If this is about the trials, you should have known better than to get involved with that nonsense," Shianni snapped, rolling her eyes and then lightly reaching out and patting Emmi's shoulder. "They said they lost funding, didn't they?" Even as she hesitated, watching Emmi for a sign that she was put even remotely at ease, she perked up. "If you want we could go down to city hall. They've got to have the paperwork for whoever rented that building, so maybe you could find a way to contact them."

Even as Emmi started to say she liked that idea, Fluff let out a sharp bark. The mabari whirled around, gripping Emmi's sleeve and jerking her to the ground. Before she could try to get up, Shianni thudded on top of her.

As Shianni swore, asking what was wrong with the damned beast, Fluff stood over them, hunching low and growling.

However, Emmi barely noticed that.

The cracks were back in the sky, jagged and larger still. Now, at the seams, there was movement, though it was far too high up for her to see _what_ was moving.

Nevertheless, her stomach turned.

Then, even as Shianni struggled to get out from under Fluff and demanded Emmi do something about her dog, one of the smaller pieces near the horizon fell.

It was as though the whole sky rippled out from that single point, the smaller pieces crumbling loose. Some fell quickly, some slipped through the air like feathers, but behind them, lights followed.

The larger pieces trembled and shook, and a massive wind hit the far end of the park, sweeping quickly toward them as Fluff continued to bark angrily.

In that moment, Emmi knew without a doubt that the world was ending.

…-…

Marian tapped her fingers against the kitchen counter as she idly watched the popcorn bag rotate in the microwave, humming softly as she considered what she and Sebastian were going to watch for their weekly movie night. There weren't any new magic documentaries out, nor were there any new historical ones that either of them were interested.

Were they going to actually need to resort to something campy? She supposed they could put in one of those really terrible movies where the attempts at acting were so brutal that they ended up trying to act out the scenes themselves and commending themselves for the awards they'd earn, if only a talent agent were sitting beside them.

Even as she ran through a list of different movies that they particularly enjoyed mocking—nothing religious, of course, as Sebastian was a devoted Andrastian—when rather abruptly she felt an odd sensation, as though all the air in the room had grown thinner.

Even as she straightened up and glanced around to see what was different, it happened.

It was like the walls of the kitchen collapsing in on her at once, as though something huge were falling to pieces around her, crushing her.

And then, just as she felt the worst of it was passing, something inside of her seemed to explode.

With a shriek, she fell to the ground gripping herself, struggling to keep herself together.

The world was blazing light and a cacophony of voices, and she shut her eyes, praying that whatever was going on would end, but it only grew worse.

There was heat everywhere, and those voices were screaming in her ears, vying for attention, though there were too many for her to make out what they were saying.

Then, slowly, so painfully slowly, everything began to slip away.

The voices grew softer before cutting off abruptly, and rather abruptly the world was so ridiculously cold that she found herself shivering.

"Marian…?"

Sebastian's voice was…terrified.

"What – what was that?" Marian managed through chattering teeth.

It was so damned cold…

As her focus finally began to allow her to notice anything beyond the fact that their air conditioner had to be completely broken, she realized that something had happened to the kitchen. Scorch marks marred the floor, the walls, the ceiling.

The handle to the fridge was partially melted, and a few of the cabinet doors were little more than piles of ash.

She looked up at Sebastian instantly. He hadn't been caught in whatever this was, had he?

When she looked at him, she could see that one of his sleeves was singed and his skin was red and blistered. Stumbling to her feet, she started toward him, but stopped in her tracks when he jerked back, as though he expected _her_ to hurt him.

She stood where she was, confused and hurt.

How…

"What happened?"

A gas pipe burst or…

Abruptly she realized that whatever had happened, she should have been hurt, too, shouldn't she?

Looking down, she saw that her clothes had burned away in some spots and her knee-length dress was barely staying up anymore.

However, she was untouched.

Something had gone terribly, terribly wrong.

Looking back at Sebastian, she couldn't help but take another step toward him. "Sebastian—"

They both jumped as Marian's ringtone started up from where she'd left her phone in the living room. They stood there another moment, staring at one another, before Sebastian abruptly twisted away, staggering down the hall to answer the phone.

She followed after him, a little lost in her own home. The fire damage was contained solely in the kitchen, somehow, and as she shivered, she glanced back to see the microwave was little more than a melted mass of metal, the timer still flickering on eight seconds left.

"It's Bethany."

Marian jolted, eyes wide as she looked back to see Sebastian standing in front of her, holding out her phone with his good hand. There was a tremble in his body as well, and she wondered if he was cold, too, or…

Maker!

Whirling away, she darted to the bathroom, making half the boxes in their cabinet behind the mirror fall into the sink. Sebastian was hurt. They would need to…

As she tried to gather everything to treat his arm, she heard his voice in the hall. It was distant and soft and for a second she thought whatever had happened before might be happening again.

Instead, he trotted into sight, holding the phone out to her again, still shaking, expression stricken.

Their fingers brushed as she took the phone from him, and he jerked his hand away a little too quickly.

It stung, though she shakily lifted her phone to her ear, thinking to tell Bethany she didn't have time to talk. Sebastian sunk to the ground and she followed him down, tossing everything between the two of them and trying to find something to ease the burns until they could get to a hospital.

The connection was miserable, but she could hear Bethany sobbing as she called out her name, and she grew still.

It was like everything was falling apart. Every little piece of her life.

"I'm here," Marian whispered into the phone.

"S-something…something's happened. I don't know what, but—Maker, I can't explain it, I…"

Staring down at the burns on Sebastian's arm, Marian felt like there was a pit in her stomach. "I think I can guess."


	4. A New Reality

The notes of an old song that Aleeri's mother had sung to him when he was small brought him back to consciousness, and he couldn't help but feel relief in that simple melody. It reminded him of simpler times and that would have put him at complete ease, except…

There was an electricity in the air that made it heavier and lighter at the same time, pressing against him and making his mind hurt almost as much as his body.

It was hard to breathe.

Aches aside, Aleeri was sure he was laying in a pool of dust or sand or…something that kept flooding his airway as he tried to breathe.

With a groan he slowly pushed himself up to a sitting position, wiping away at the grime coating him and clearing his airways well enough that he could suck in a few gulps of air unhindered. His body hurt more now that he was moving, as though it had been waiting for him to try to focus to show him all the reasons he couldn't.

"You'll be alright." An unfamiliar voice came from beside him, gentle and soft. Aleeri winced as a pang of pain ran through him from one of his horns. Turning, he found a young man sitting beside him, wearing odd patchwork clothes with shaggy blonde hair obscuring most of his upper face, though he could just make out piercing blue eyes between the messy locks. The boy smiled at him, the action so warm and soothing, like his mother's melody… "It hurts. Twinges and cracks, in and around. Things aren't sitting as they should, but it will be alright. You can figure it out. You have what you need. You're going to be fine."

Aleeri screwed his eyes shut, reaching up to run his fingers along his horn and then wincing when he found the large crack in it, wet with dirtied blood.

Shit.

"You're not…making a lot of sense—"

"Aleeri!"

Dagna's voice was a panicked shriek, nearly as foreign as the boy's voice.

Blinking a few times, Aleeri looked around for her, finally peering down the hall to see that she was climbing over some fallen parts of a wall—

Fallen parts of a wall?

Aleeri's focus finally came in and he looked around him, jaw falling slack as he saw the wreckage surrounding him. The walls were barely standing, and there were new holes in the ceiling overhead, though the sky was still hard to see. There was some sort of web-work or…something overhead.

The building, though…looked like it had been through an explosion.

He started to draw his feet to him to stand up, but stopped short as Dagna collided with him, gripping him in a tight hug that made a few bruises he hadn't noticed yet ache. She released him quickly, dirt and grime smearing her panicked face as she looked up at him and then looked him over. "Ancestors! You…you…"

"You are one of the luckiest bastards I've ever met," Thom finished. He climbed over a chunk of ceiling to reach the other two, shaking his head. Despite his words, he was pale, with a small cut over his eyebrow and a few bruises on one side of his face. "That blast damn near killed me, and I was on the stairs. The fact that you're in one piece is a damned miracle."

Dagna's fingers feathered over Aleeri's skin as she searched for signs of broken bones.

"I'm…alright," Aleeri assured her, catching her hands and giving her his best reassuring smile. It didn't work like it usually did, though, and his smile slipped. "It's okay."

"Good thing that," Thom murmured, stepping over to where Aleeri and Dagna were and then offering Aleeri a hand. When he was upright, Thom let out a relieved sigh. "Better that you can stand. We'd be hard pressed trying to drag you out of here."

With a weak laugh that hurt a few ribs, Aleeri glanced around again. There wasn't a single clear path anywhere in the room. Even as he thought of a quip to respond with, he noticed char marks on the floor and shook his head. There'd been fire?

However, before he could say anything, he realized rather abruptly that the only char spots were near him. He glanced toward the door, expecting them to streak up from that stairway, and then realized that the door had completely caved in.

The memories of how he had ended up down there fell back into place, and he jerked back from the door, gripping Dagna, and pulling her away with him.

His foot hit ash. Gaze snapping down, he froze when he saw that the char marks seemed to be coming out from a large, oval shape on the floor.

From where he'd been.

"We have to get out of here." His words were a mere whisper.

 _You'll be alright. They're gone. You turned their sacrifice around on them._

The words were more in his head than spoken, and immediately he remembered the blonde boy. He was bewildered to realize that the boy was missing.

Aleeri didn't realize that Thom and Dagna were guiding him out of the hall until the sunlight hit him.

Taking in a shaky breath, he barely heard as Dagna assured him the stairs were stable enough that they could get down to the SUV. Instead, his gaze was skyward.

"Fuck."

…-…

 _A lover's spat, how miserable. You know, I could help you with that._

 _Forget him, he's useless. I'll show you just what you can do with that fire burning inside._

 _Make him pay! How dare he turn from you like that!_

 ** _Ignore them. We both know they're just playing on fleeting fears and anger. You have a greatness in your that deserves respect. A lineage. You've always known that. You have power, and they would squander it. Ignore them, dear mage._**

Marian's eyes snapped open as she sucked in a sharp breath, staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling.

"Sebastian?" The word was weak as it left her lips, and she reached out on the bed, her heart twisting in on itself when she found the edge of the bed too soon, and the space between empty. With a hiccupped sob, she put her arm over her eyes, mouth twisting as she tried not to cry out loud.

Bethany was in the room across the hall, and Carver had taken up sleeping on the couch when he'd come in. Travel was almost impossible, but he'd made it to Kirkwall with Bethany and then taken Marian to a small place that had been in their family's name forever. It wasn't really big enough for three people, but they'd set up a cot in the spare room—it had been an office that their mother had used, when she'd been single and on her own.

Marian managed to steady her breathing and lowered her arm, sitting up. It was so insanely dark in the room, even though dawn had already broken. Light peaked into the room from around the blackout curtains, leaving eerie shafts of yellow in the darkness.

It reminded her too much of the sky and she stumbled out of bed and flicked the lights on.

She moved to the nearest window, hands clenching the fabric, though she was reluctant to open them. After a few deep breaths, she jerked the curtains back and dared a look up.

The sky was wrong.

There were cracks and lights that slipped out and…

She jerked the curtains shut.

This was becoming somewhat of a routine.

For the last week, she would check the sky first thing when she woke up, hoping against hope that it would be normal again.

Then, when it wasn't, she'd hide away from it again, like if she couldn't see it, everything might return to normal.

Carver couldn't see it. He said the sky was paler than it should be, but that was it.

Bethany, though, saw every little crack and crevice, and the holes…

Maker's mercy, there were holes in the sky.

That was where the lights slipped out. Marian tried not to think too hard on what the lights might be.

When Bethany dared to bring it up, Marian had joked that it was falling stars and to make a bunch of wishes. She'd said that with only some people seeing them, that surely meant that their wishes would come true.

As much as it terrified her, she didn't want Bethany to feel as lost as she did.

And so she postured.

Marian leaned back against her door and then held her hand out in front of her, focusing on it. The air warmed and sparked and a sizable flicker of flame burst to life above her palm.

She ignored the whispers that came with it, instead waving it around slowly, and willing it to twirl and spark.

 ** _A fine flame, that._**

She let it disperse, hand dropping to her side.

The documentaries she'd so loved had always written off the 'voices of demons' as symptoms of schizophrenia, but with both her and Bethany hearing them every time a bit of magic surfaced…

Mostly, it was accidental.

Bethany would have a panic attack and the curtains would freeze. Marian would remember the way Sebastian had been afraid to even touch her, and then the pillow would be smoldering.

Sometimes they even heard the voices before they saw whatever they'd done.

It was occasionally a game of find the frosty/charred item before Carver.

He wasn't… he was still with them, though he did pale every time he came across a frozen solid apple or melted spoon. However, when he did say something about it, it was always a reminder that mages were supposed to focus and practice so that they could control their magic.

It was easy for him to say, considering he didn't need to do any of that.

Though… Marian slid down the door, hands covering her face.

He was trying to help. There was nothing he could do, and so he tried to tell them what might be useful.

She was trying to remember that, but it was so frustrating. She _knew_ she needed to concentrate, needed to control herself, but she'd set her fiancé on fire!

She let out a sniffle as she remembered the burns on Sebastian's skin, on the arm that must have been reached out for her.

The last time he'd reached out for her.

 ** _You have great potential. Don't let despair ruin that._**

Marian jerked her head up, finding a few small orbs of fire hovering throughout the room.

Instead of dismissing them instantly, she hesitated and reached her hand out. The nearest one wandered over to her lazily, as though trying to decide if it really wanted to listen to her.

When it was above her palm, she looked at the next one.

 ** _That's it. Focus. You can do this._**

"Who are you?" Marian whispered, not cutting her connection.

"Dammit!"

Her fires blinked out in an instant.

Jerking her door open and nearly hitting herself with it, she stumbled down the hall and into the living room. Carver and Bethany were seated on the couch, with a few small snowflakes twirling above Bethany's fingertips as Carver madly hit keys on his laptop.

"It's gone."

Marian arched an eyebrow, pausing to give Bethany a thumbs up rating for her snowflakes. As her sister dismissed them and gave her an embarrassed smile, Carver scowled at his laptop and pointed at the machinery accusingly. "They're taking down all the sites that talk about magic."

Marian sunk down on the couch in between the twins, ignoring as they both cried out that there wasn't space, and peered at his screen. It had an error message that told her nothing of the site he'd been looking at. "What's this now?"

"I've been looking for sites that might help with what you're going through," Carver muttered, shifting a little so that she wasn't sitting on him anymore. "They keep going down."

"Well, the internet's been a little weird," Marian offered.

Everything was a little weird.

Air travel had halted, after almost a dozen planes went down. There was no official statement, but everyone had pretty much decided it was magic related. Buses were out of commission, too, and trains, and anything that had a circuit board. There was no way to tell when something would short out, and so people were afraid to use anything.

Since cars were more of a personal gamble, there were still people driving around, but they were far fewer than usual.

Several nations had locked their boarders, not allowing any outsiders to come in until they had a handle on…whatever this was. Kirkwall had been one of the first to shut its doors, after the templars had risen from seemingly nowhere to patrol the city and 'keep order'.

There were wild rumors. Talks of them looking for mages. They weren't rounding them up, like the templars of old, but they wanted to know: who had magic?

Who was a threat?

It made Marian uncomfortable.

How long until they did start picking people up off the street? What if Bethany went out for a walk one day and just never came home?

There were some places that hadn't reacted as negatively to whatever was happening, and Marian felt more and more like they should be trying to go there.

Rivain, maybe. Or even Tevinter. The latter was notoriously pretentious and terrible, but maybe it would be safer there than here next to the new templar command center.

"I'm gonna go to the store," Carver said, abruptly snapping his laptop shut and hopping off the couch. "I think the templars are sweeping through this area today, so…don't answer the door while I'm gone?"

"Yes, Dad," Marian teased, though she was surprised by how quickly Carver turned to glare at her. Then, he looked…almost lost for a second before turning away and simply walking out the door.

Marian felt that pit in her stomach return as the door closed behind him. She felt like she was standing on the curb again, waiting for Carver to pull up, waiting for Sebastian to come down and join her.

Only one of them had shown up.

Arms slipped around her and Bethany rested her head on her shoulder. "It'll be okay, Mar."

"Of course it will," Marian replied, leaned her head against Bethany's. "This will all blow over soon."

…-…

"Commander, I would highly advise against this—"

Meredith didn't bother to look at the templar beside her as she strode through the halls, ignoring the worried looks of the occasional templar around her.

Prime Minister Anora had pulled through, and had delivered someone that Meredith had hoped might shine a bit of light on what had happened. Psych wards were filling up with people insisting that there were cracks and holes in the sky, and inexplicable accidents were on the rise, as well as stories of monsters prowling about.

So far, none of the monsters had proven to be any desire demons. She was relieved by that, though the fire demon her templars had taken down that morning had left them struggling for a plausible answer that wouldn't feed into people's panic.

The insistence of holes in the sky was being called a Blight, as anyone who saw them—real or not—seemed to go mad.

While the cracks in the sky were certainly something to worry about, it wasn't something for _her_ to worry about.

She had demons and worse… _mages_.

History had made a point of listing the terrible things that had been done to mages in the past, when magic was widely believed in. Even with most mages being docile, the few who did use their magic for ill purposes caused _so_ much destruction…

There was a need for order, and she wasn't sure how she was going to be able to do it without being labeled a tyrant.

Perhaps fear had led people to be…overly protective of those without magic in times past, but these days the issue was that there were no _trained_ mages.

None of them had had magic longer than a week or two, and they were all so intermingled in the population. There were already groups forming to protect the mages from witch hunts and some more renowned people stepping forward as mages or supporting mages.

When questioned about the 'resurrection of the templar order', Meredith always pointed out—with an icy smile—that most of those events ended when someone's magic got a little…out of control, and that she just wanted to make sure that people would be safe.

The mistakes of the past would not be repeated.

Even if it did make more sense to her to just round up those who could light people on fire with a thought and keep them away from the public.

She needed something to go wrong, first, though.

Worse than the 'awakening', as it was being called.

There was no price that could be put on the amount of damage that had been incurred in that first week. Kirkwall, as well as many other cities and nations, had gone to martial law until something could be decided.

Circles had been proposed, though obviously kinder ones than history spoke of.

Those were other conversations Meredith had to force a smile through. There were reports across all of Thedas of immolation and electrocution and other deaths caused 'accidentally'. Some towns had already turned against their mages, forcing them out of their homes and into hiding.

If they were going to combat the whole mage issue, they needed to really put a face to the dangers of magic. Something that would help people see that something had to be done.

Meredith opened the door to her office, and her gaze immediately swept to the curly haired young man sitting in a chair across from her desk.

Guards stood on either side of him, hands on their weapons, ready to use them.

Meredith waited until she had circled around them to stand beside her chair. Her intent had been to offer the man a warm greeting, but when she could see him, her voice caught for just a moment.

His hands were in his curly hair as he whispered to himself, shaking his head most frantically.

She appraised him a moment. If he was this bad, then Ser Thrask might have been right. Perhaps this was a bad idea.

Despite their protests, she dismissed the guards and walked back around her desk to lean against it in front of her guest. "Cullen Rutherford?"

His head snapped up, eyes wide with terror. "They're back. I told you they'd come back. They said they would. No one would listen. You called me crazy, but I'm not. They're here."

She listened to him continue on a moment. What a completely broken soul.

Three years prior he'd been training with some other templars on a routine exercise when _something_ had happened.

 _What_ had been left undecided, as the only survivor was the man in front of her, and his account had been discredited for the sheer absurdity of it.

He'd gone on about _demons_.

The only thing that had given him any slight credibility had been the ways that his fellow templars had been killed, tortured and dismembered. There was certainly something demonic in that, though it had been attributed to his own personal demons in his head, even if no one had been able to figure out how he could have overpowered thirty-four other people and kept them all subdued long enough to kill them all.

He was still talking about what the demons had said—something he'd apparently been trying to tell people for the last three years.

"You're right."

The words were like a knife, cutting into his ramblings and silencing him in an instant. His expression shifted as he met her gaze, trying to understand, to comprehend that someone actually, finally believed him.

His brow pinched together, he fish-mouthed, and then he started to reach out to her, only to stop himself, curling his fingers into his palm and pulling away from her as something other than terror dared to stir in his eyes.

Hope.

Oh, but if she could get him to be the champion of her cause…

"Tell me, Cullen, do you know why you're here?"

At first, he didn't answer. Then, slowly, his brow dipped down, his lips twisting into an agonized scowl. "They killed everyone," he whispered. "But no one will listen."

Meredith tilted her head. She'd read the reports, but had wanted to see just how far gone the young soldier was. Prior to being told someone believed him, the only way to shut him up about demons had been to ask why he'd been spared.

It always left him lost, according to his file. Lost and sobbing for those he'd lost.

There had never been a better plea for insanity.

When she'd first heard of what had happened to him, she'd pitied him at best, but now… Meredith couldn't help but think that perhaps Cullen might know more about what was going on than people realized.

It must have been tricky for Anora to get him released and transferred all the way to Kirkwall. Meredith was grateful, nonetheless.

"The demons are back," Meredith said, watching him carefully for his response.

Rather than looking relieved, he sunk into himself, glaring at her as he wrapped his arms around his head, as though to make himself disappear. "I know. I felt the world shatter."

Meredith waited another moment before looking to the soldiers outside the door and motioning for them to bring something in. "When you were asked what the demons looked like, you said they were twisted things. Bodies like a woman's, but horns and dead eyes. Claws and fangs. Do you remember?"

She heard the ragged, strained breath he took and knew that he did. Before he could voice whatever might be going through that head of his, two soldiers dragged in a body. It was impossibly tall, its limbs long and gangly, a tail dragging well after its clawed feet. Meredith saw the body of a young, virile man, yet more than a few of her subordinates had said they saw that of a slender woman. It bothered her that even in death, the damnable things could play with their minds.

"Does that look familiar?"

Cullen stared at it, unmoving, unblinking. Then, slowly, he uncurled himself and rose from his seat, stopping a few feet short of the demon, staring as though he didn't know if this was real, or some elaborate, cruel trick.

"I told you they'd come back."

The words were so faint, Meredith almost missed them.

Stepping up beside him, she lightly put a hand on his shoulder. "You were right." He didn't take his eyes off the creature. "We cannot give you back the years you've lost for this tragic…misunderstanding, and it is cruel to ask, but would you help us?"

Slowly, Cullen turned his attention to her, that haunted look in his eyes almost making Meredith feel something stir in her chest. It settled quickly. "You have to know how to deal with these things, yes?" Meredith managed a fleeting smile at him as he frowned. She held out her hand to him. "How would you like something nice to eat? Coffee perhaps? We can go somewhere less…" she glanced around her office and let it finish her thought, "to discuss what happened at Kinloch Hold, just you and me. No judgment, not accusations of insanity. I'll believe everything you tell me."

Cullen stared at her for a long, quiet moment before nodding slowly, his curly hair bobbing from the motion. "I can do that."

"Excellent."


	5. Cold Winds

Aleeri reached up to feel the crack in his horn, sighing when his fingers found that miserable gap. It didn't hurt as much as it had, a good sign, he hoped, but he still worried that without proper medical care he might end up losing it.

Which would mean losing both horns, because the weight imbalance would mess up his neck.

As he sent a prayer up to anyone or thing that might be listening that his horn recover, he stepped out of the old, decrepit tower he'd taken up sleeping in.

All three of them had, actually. They'd initially joked that they could each have their own tower, but the nights at Skyhold were too…eerie.

That hadn't been too bad before, when they'd had their portable luxuries and the like.

Now, however, they were stranded.

Thanks to Aleeri.

Everything he touched short-circuited. Not necessarily immediately, but the moment his mind wandered to a worry, there was an overabundance of static or actual electricity, and after killing both cars, his phone, Thom's phone, a few cameras and other devices, and the coffee maker, he had been banned from touching anything mechanical.

While he agreed with the edict handed down, it was hard for him to not use any type of technology.

For two weeks, they'd been trapped in Skyhold, because they didn't have the gear to trek through the mountains, cold as they were.

Dagna was still able to skype with Sera via satellite link on her laptop, though they weren't sure when anyone would be coming for them. According to Sera, things had gone sideways ever since the sky had cracked open.

Aleeri had been relieved that someone else could see it—neither Thom nor Dagna were able to see those blatantly obvious cracks overhead—but Sera wouldn't talk about it other than to acknowledge that yes, it was broken.

She didn't like to talk much about the current state of things, other than to tell them that things were going all kinds of wrong. Stuff went weird and then there were people insisting mages be protected and others insisting something be done about them.

No one had proven any deaths had been caused by magic yet, but the number of eccentric accidental deaths happening was on the rise.

Insurance companies were going bankrupt, governments were declaring states of emergency, and Sera didn't know how or when she'd be able to get out of Denerim to find her way to rescue them.

She'd tried twice, and the templars had told her that if she did so again, she'd be taken to a holding cell. Sera wouldn't have cared much about tempting fate, except she couldn't very well talk to Dagna if she was locked up.

And the three of them did appreciate her updates.

The few others that Dagna had tried to call had either had their numbers disconnected or had simply told Dagna that it wasn't safe to talk over the phone and hung up before she could ask for help.

That the templar Order was already patrolling cities made Aleeri almost relieved to be trapped in the mountains. It gave him time to practice with his own magic without too many prying eyes.

Though he did hear demons when he conjured lightning in the remote parts of the castle, well away from their remaining tech, they were easy enough to ignore. And as much as he feared it, he hadn't seen any actual demons since the explosion.

Part of him wondered if that hadn't been the catalyst that had cracked the sky.

If this place was where the Veil had been put up and reinforced, then perhaps whatever those demons had been doing had affected it.

Reaching up to his horn, Aleeri concentrated, looking down at one of the texts he'd brought with them. Most of them had been on a tablet that no longer worked, but they'd brought a few actual books with them, and he was grateful now.

His gaze scanned the page a few times before he reluctantly murmured the old incantation on it, holding his hands around his horn.

There was a surge of energy, whispers in the back of his mind, and then…

He felt the gap in his horn. It wasn't as deep as it had been. Was it?

Aleeri wasn't sure that his attempts at healing did much of anything, though he did have to say he felt better. He'd attempted to heal his ribs the day after the explosion, considering he wouldn't be able to bind himself properly until they were healed, and they barely hurt at all now.

And his horn was healing faster than usual, too.

Or so he kept telling himself.

Dagna and Thom had watched him heal a bruise on his arm, and though Dagna had insisted that it looked lighter, Aleeri still felt like it was iffy as to whether or not the spells worked.

His lightning was another story. He could conjure little balls of it, make it arc from one hand to the other. He'd even set up a can on the battlements and tossed a few bolts at it.

The mini explosion that had happened when he actually hit it had somewhat deterred that game.

Still, it was fascinating. And horrifying.

And of course he was writing down everything that he could, though he had to be careful with pens, as the metal parts conducted electricity if he got too excited and he'd lost a full page to a fire that had ensued from that.

As he wished that he still had his phone so that he could take pictures of his horn and compare them daily—while Dagna still had her phone, she didn't dare bring it too close to Aleeri, because his magic's range was a little unpredictable—a hand on his arm pulled him from his musings and he looked over, expecting Thom or Dagna only to find the young man from before.

He stared at the blonde. "You…"

He'd all but dismissed the boy as some kind of fever dream from getting tossed by the explosion, so to see him again…

Aleeri glanced around to make sure everything was as intact as it had been. The ramparts were as crumbly as usual, so he looked back at his visitor.

"You have to go now." His touch was light as he tugged on Aleeri's arm. "They don't understand what's happening, and if they find you, it will be bad. I can show you the way, but we must go now."

Though he couldn't be sure why, Aleeri trusted the young man. Somehow, he simply knew that he was a good sort and that there was no reason to doubt. With a slow, accepting nod, Aleeri started down the battlements. "I'll let Dagna and Thom know to pack up—"

"There's no time," the boy insisted, reaching out and tugging ineffectively on Aleeri's arm. "They won't hurt your friends. Not outright. But you. They don't understand what you've become, and they're scared. We have to go."

"Not without Dagna and Thom."

The look that overcame the boy's features almost made Aleeri turn away then and there, but he steeled himself and patted the young man's shoulder. "I can't leave them."

Quick steps took him to their tower, though neither of his friends were there. However, even as he wondered where to check next, he noticed the other door to the eastern wall—the one over the entrance—was open.

He darted out and stopped when he saw Thom and Dagna standing there, staring off into the distance.

"Guys, we have to—" Aleeri cut himself off as he jogged over to them, his gaze following theirs, out into the valley.

What appeared to be an entire convoy of trucks was headed toward Skyhold, making damned good time. At first, Aleeri thought they might be a rescue team, but there were so many of them. And there was a symbol painted on the doors, though he couldn't quite get a good look at it.

"We have to go," the boy whispered, "before the templars get to you."

…-…

The way someone was pounding on the door made Marian and Bethany both dart back into the kitchen, hiding behind the counter and peering over it at the door. Neither of them had dared leave the apartment in almost a week, as the templars had been coming around and asking a few too many questions.

While they might not be so bad these days, historically speaking they were not mage friendly, and neither of them wanted to find out that they were rounding up mages again.

There'd been nothing on the news about that, but mages were going missing.

Well, people in general were, but it seemed like most of the names they recognized had been people with idle magic in their blood.

It wasn't like the mysterious deaths that had occurred when magic first made its comeback. Those had died down substantially. In fact, that was one of the leading reasons that people were advocating that the Circles weren't necessary.

However, now people were simply vanishing.

Sometimes it was entire families.

Just… gone, without a trace.

The knocking stopped abruptly, and both of them held their breath.

Muffled voices sounded outside, then the sound of a fist hitting someone, and someone falling.

Even as Marian debated having a fireball ready, the door swung open and Carver stepped inside. He paused, glancing back into the hall. "Are you coming in?"

There was a brief pause before Sebastian stepped into the apartment, rubbing his already bruising jaw and glaring at Carver.

"Sebastian?" Marian darted around the counter that formed a mini hall into the apartment, separating the kitchen from the entryway. She stopped short of him, not sure what to say.

"Marian." He took a step toward her, but stopped when she went rigid, and Carver stepped slightly between them, fist already curled and raised again. He winced at their reactions and then paused to close the door behind him. "I deserve that."

"You deserve a lot worse," Bethany snapped, coming around to stand beside Marian and looping arms with her, tugging her close.

However, before Bethany could berate him for breaking Marian's heart, he held his hands up. She could see burn scars on the one she'd hurt. "I know, I know." He hesitated, looking at Marian, a pleading look on his face. "I can't imagine what you've been going through, but I handled what happened poorly and…" His hands fell to his sides. "I came to warn you. I didn't tell them, but they've done their homework, and I don't think you're safe."

Carver was the one to piece it together first. "The templars know Marian's a mage?"

"I… I asked the building manager to help fix the kitchen, and he reported it to the templars. I told them it was just a fire because I was careless, but they didn't believe that. They kept me for hours, asking about lineage and all manner of things. When they finally decided I wasn't a mage, they started asking about you. I said you weren't one, but they…"

He ran his hands down his face, eyes screwed shut. "I didn't take a direct route here, but I don't think it will be long before they find this place anyway."

"The Circles haven't been reinstated," Bethany objected, her grip tightening on Marian's arm.

"No, but the way they're hunting down everyone with magic…" Sebastian stepped up to her, reaching out and taking her hand. "Marian, I know I let you down, but please. My family has enough connections, I can get you out of here. Maybe Starkhaven or…somewhere. Anywhere that's not right beside the damned templar base of operations."

Marian stood there a moment, unsure what to do. He seemed sincere enough, but part of her still resented the way he'd all but fallen off the face of Thedas when her magic had come in.

Though…she _had_ set him on fire.

And she had more than her pride to worry about right now, as she was reminded when Bethany leaned into her more. It would be better for all of them if they could get out of Kirkwall.

Squeezing his hand, she nodded. "Okay, let's go."

…-…

"And you will…boil!"

Emmi would have been impressed when the kettle started whistling, were it not for the fact that Alistair had commanded it to do so over a dozen times already.

Even as she sighed and went to pour them some tea, he puffed up waving and bowing to an imaginary audience.

"You're not a mage."

"Ye of little to no faith," Alistair retorted, though he did stop thanking his invisible fans and lean against the table. Fluff sat in one of the chairs beside him, eyeballing him. His inquiry as to whether the chair could hold fluff had been met with an indignant ruff, and the mabari had been eyeing him ever since.

Daveth's body had turned up in a river a week before, and that afternoon, Alistair had shown up on her doorstep, terrified.

None of the other test subjects' or doctors' numbers worked anymore, and when they'd talked Shianni into going by Duncan's, she came back to report that his apartment was for rent. No sign of him.

Emmi couldn't help but wonder why they hadn't come for her yet. The guys prowling about had to be after her…

Though, they were templars.

Shianni had found that out, too.

Orana was even more reclusive than usual, and she'd taken to helping Velanna, who turned out to be a mage.

A mage.

In this day and age, it seemed ridiculous, but so was the notion of cracks in the sky.

"There goes a big light," Alistair murmured as she brought the teacups over. He was leaning back in his chair, peering out the window, upside down. As she set a cup in front of him, she dared to peer out the herself. She could see the tail of the light as it disappeared behind some trees.

She shuddered and sat down across from Alistair, close enough to reach out and pet Fluff.

Those spiderweb fractures were dimmer than when they'd first appeared, and Shianni had thought she was crazy until they'd learned that Velanna could see it, too.

It seemed to be a very…mage thing to be able to see.

Everyone who'd been public about the change to the sky had been carted off to loony bins, and Emmi was glad for once that she was just a nobody.

Though…she again wondered about the templars. Had they somehow known she'd started seeing it before that strange…whatever it was. Explosion wasn't the right word, but she couldn't think of much else to describe it.

Alistair kept calling it the Breach 2.0.

Emmi called him an idiot.

She was pretty sure this wasn't a return of that fabled legend.

He'd moved in with her. When he'd shown up, it had been to make sure she was alright and being careful. He'd had everything he valued packed in his car and was talking about taking a road trip. With the roads leading out of town under close moderation, she'd instead suggested he stay in town until they could figure something out.

So far, they were drawing blanks, though Shianni found him acceptable company, as he was tall—even for a human—and could reach some of the things they normally had to get ladders for. He milked his use for all it was worth, too, always puffing up and joking about he was happy to serve.

"Really, though," Alistair's tone took on a rare serious note. "Why do you think we can see it when only mages can?" He fiddled with his teacup without drinking it, watching the steam rise as his chair legs landed back on the floor. "Do you think it had something to do with the tests?"

"Maybe," Emmi murmured, shrugging halfheartedly. That did seem to be the only thing they had in common, but without anyone to tell them what it meant or what to do, they were rather lost.

"Do you…" he hesitated, drumming his fingers against his cup, and then took a long drink. "Do you think we should be…doing something?"

"Like what?"

Alistair shrugged. "Maybe we should go to a research center or—"

"Do you want to disappear like all the others?" Emmi interrupted, leaning toward him.

Fluff let out a gruff bark as well.

Alistair held his hands up. "Fine, fine. No wandering off to scientists. No need to double team me…" He paused before adding, "I didn't really want to get poked with more needles, anyway."

"Says the man who signed up for human testing."

Hey!" Alistair put a hand over his heart, like he'd been wounded. "I'll have you know that was the only test I ever took part in." When Emmi arched an eyebrow, he rolled his eyes. "I was…training to go into the Templar Order, when I decided that I'd be better off on my own." He took another sip of tea. "They were not happy with me."

Letting out a half laugh, Emmi shook her head. "So we were both making up for not having jobs?"

He held his cup up for a toast, and she couldn't help but smile as the cups clinked together. Fluff let out a whine, distraught at being left out, and both of them reached out to scratch her ears at the same time.

"Is that friend of yours coming over tonight?" Alistair slouched down against the table. "Velanna?"

"I don't know."

Velanna was having a rough time with her newfound powers. It wasn't that she couldn't control them, most of the time. It was just when she got riled up that things starting going awry. And she was such a public face for elven rights that if she continued her usual protests and rallies, she was going to get caught. And now that she'd fallen out of the public eye while she struggled to control herself, there were already whispers that she was a mage, and that she was going to use her powers to attack important human structures.

She just couldn't win.

But she was determined to get herself under control. She was descended from the Dalish, and her clan had been wiped out in some freak accident that she never talked about and that Emmi had never been able to find information on. It was funny how poorly records were kept when it came to missing Dalish clans.

After what had happened to them, she'd vowed to make the world a better place, and she wasn't going to let occasionally shooting lightning from her fingertips stop her.

Emmi wished she could help her, but she was afraid to go out herself these days—Fluff's walks were more and more infrequent.

"Maybe Duncan will turn up again," Alistair offered, his voice softer as he stared blankly at the table.

Even as she offered that he might, she couldn't help but think that if he did, it would be the same way Daveth had.


	6. Rumblings

_Chapter warning: thoughts of suicide_

...-...

The world swirled and shifted around Aleeri. He tried to remember how he could have gotten to such an odd place—the sky was green, with cracks of blue running through it, an inverse of what had happened after that explosion.

 _That one's got magic._

Aleeri whirled around and saw a man in military gear motioning to him with his gun. A templar's insignia was emblazoned across his chest, and his eyes had an odd, bluish hue to them, just around the pupils.

Aleeri took a step back, déjà vu seeping into his bones. This had happened already.

They'd gone down to the car, ready to risk it with Aleeri's unstable magic, only to find the convoy was faster than they'd realized. The templars had held them at gunpoint, confirming who they were and demanding that they come with them. They were going to a research facility.

Aeonar.

When Thom had pointed out that that was an asylum, the templars had simply dismissed him, ignoring the comment all together.

And then they'd noticed Aleeri's magic.

A few of the soldiers had moved forward like they were going to attack him, but before they could, both were falling to the ground, throats slit.

 _Hurry!_

The blonde boy ran past him and he turned as the world shifted into a blur before finally stopping in a dungeon. The floor had fallen out long ago, and water cascaded down below.

 _We're trapped_ — Thom's words were interrupted by a gun shot, and then he was falling over the edge, eyes wide.

Aleeri had tried to catch him and ended up falling after him.

The world was spiraling toward the valley below when it abruptly stopped and dispersed, leaving him standing in a rocky, barren land, with that eerie green sky. That same strange boy was standing in front of him, though he somehow felt like he belonged in this twisted place.

 _You need to wake up._

With a blink, Aleeri jolted upright, only to groan as his side and head protested. Even as he reached up to feel for what had to be a huge lump, hands pressed firmly against his shoulder. Without a thought, he let them guide him back to the bed.

Laying down made his side hurt less, and the flitting of fingers over his forehead brought a soothing wash of relief. He succumbed to it for a moment, reveling in the soothing feeling.

When it finally started to ebb, he opened his eyes and looked up to see an unfamiliar face peering down at him. A human man leaned over him to inspect his side, that same soothing wave crashing over Aleeri as magic danced at the man's fingertips.

"Before you ask, your friends are well. They still require some healing, as do you, but none of you are in any immediate danger."

Aleeri drew in a slow breath, relieved that it was so much easier to breathe. "Thank you." He paused and then awkwardly motioned to himself. "I'm Aleeri—"

"Cole already told me your names," the man said before pausing and frowning. "Though I suppose that doesn't help you much, does it? I'm Kieran." He nodded his head, a few loose strands of brown hair falling over his shoulder.

Aleeri blinked, once, then twice. "And you are…a templar?"

A bark of a laugh was his first response, though Kieran quickly coughed into his hand to regain his composure. Even so, mischief danced in his eyes as he shrugged lightly. "No. If anything, I suppose I'm the local Witch of the Wilds."

Aleeri stared at the man, wondering if he was joking or not. He was well acquainted with the legends of Flemeth and her many daughters, but nothing had ever mentioned a male witch.

With a laugh, Kieran shook his head. "We're going to need to move as soon as your lot is well enough, the templars haven't found you yet, but they are furious to have lost you." He packed up a few bandages and the like. "And I'd heard they weren't quite the zealots they used to be."

"They weren't," Aleeri offered. "They were just the Chantry's military. With a division that was constantly mocked for investigating supposed magical incidents."

Kieran let out a half laugh and shook his head. "Pity they couldn't have stayed that way." He nodded to Aleeri and slipped out of the room.

Looking around, Aleeri saw Dagna and Thom laying on bundles of blankets on the floor. They were both breathing evenly as they slept, and so he slipped out of bed as quietly as he could, commending Kieran's healing, as he felt nothing but dull aches.

He stepped out of the room where they had been put up and was surprised to find the rest of the house in a single room, with Kieran standing beside an old fireplace, a pot heating above it.

Maybe he was a witch.

"You mentioned someone else—"

"Hello."

Aleeri jerked toward the voice that came from nowhere and found the blonde boy perched on a stool. He was fairly certain he hadn't been there before.

Immediately, the blonde was fretting, twisting his hands together as he watched Aleeri. "Appearing and disappearing. Forgotten and remembered. Magic? Something else?" He paused, calming down. "I'm help. I'm Cole."

"You showed up…right after the explosion."

"No." Cole shook his head. "I've been around. You just couldn't see me." He perked up a little, smiling beneath that shaggy mop of hair. "It's nice to be able to talk to someone again."

"What am I?" Kieran quipped, tone playful.

"You're you." Cole's tone implied he'd missed the joke.

Aleeri listened to them a moment more, as Kieran continued to tease, and Cole missed most of the jokes. Finally, he sighed and coughed into his hand to interrupt them. "I was asking because I wondered if you knew what was happening?"

"What was lost and then forgotten is seeping back, tinging and rippling out. The Wolf was tricked, no easy feat, and he wants out—"

"I'll take this Cole," Kieran interrupted. "It's quite simple. The spirits and demons miss the Waking World, and they've worked to find a way back. If they had managed to get your blood, they would have been able to take the Veil down. You can thank Cole that they didn't."

Aleeri frowned, inspecting Kieran. Cole had mentioned a wolf. If the history of the Veil was more than just myth, then that meant…

The Dread Wolf. The inquisitor had been adamant about telling of the Elvhen God who had nearly destroyed everything. Most felt that the inquisitor had had some illness that had led to madness and the inability to distinguish reality from fiction, but if that was true…

"It's okay," Cole whispered, right beside Aleeri. "He didn't get through."

Kieran sighed at that, turning to inspect Aleeri with more care. "I take it you've heard of the Dread Wolf." When Aleeri nodded, Kieran fell silent a moment before finally stepping away from their dinner. "There is a way to reseal the Veil, to push the demons back and make sure that the Dread Wolf cannot destroy the world. There is an old artifact, useless these days, but with a proper touch of magic, we should be able to reseal the Veil."

"You haven't gotten it yet?" Aleeri felt his skepticism on the rise. If there was such a thing, it felt like Kieran would have already gone for it…assuming he wanted the Veil put back.

After all, the human was rather good with his magic.

"He needs one of the bloodlines," Cole said, hopping back on the stool.

As Aleeri arched his brow, Kieran gave Cole a sharp look. "It was sealed away, in the Waking World, fortunately."

"Why is my blood so important?" Aleeri cut in, not wanting any dodging or misdirection.

"Because you're descended from the inquisitor who sealed it away in the first place."

…-…

"Hey!" Marian dropped her suitcase and hopped the fence even as Sebastian unlocked the gate not a few feet to her right. She ignored as he called after her and darted down the dock and to the rather impressive boat waiting there.

And more importantly, toward the rather scruffy guy who looked like he was trying to find a way into the cabin.

As she gripped the side of the boat and hopped aboard, the man let out a cry and darted back, holding his hands up. "Don't hurt me, please!"

Marian had a fist up without even realizing it, and she hesitated before lowering it slowly. "Why are you trying to steal our boat?"

"The templars!" he cried out. "They're looking for me, and I have to get out of here!"

Marian held her hands up, trying to calm him down. "Okay, okay. Why are they after you?"

"Because I'm a _mage_ ," he hissed, hands in his hair. "When they found me, I'd hurt my hand while cooking and they said they wanted to talk to me about _blood_ magic! I barely got my magic, how can I be a blood mage already?"

Marian's brow shot up, though it was Carver who answered, having come up behind them while they spoke. "They just accused you? Because of a cut hand?"

"Yes! They're mad with power!"

Trying not to think of the implications that might mean for the people going missing, Marian waved her hands to get his attention again. "Okay, look… what's your name?"

"Jowan."

Even as Carver muttered something about now not being the time for introductions, Marian turned, looking back to see Sebastian had already unlocked the door to the cabin. She held up a finger for Jowan to wait a moment and went in after her fiancé. "Hey, do you think we can take him with us?"

Sebastian was busy getting the ship ready to sail, but he paused to look at her. "It would stretch food thin, especially if we run into any problems."

"We can't just abandon him, though," Marian whispered. "He's running, just like we are."

"Didn't he say the templars thought he was a blood mage? That makes him a fugitive. We'd be accomplices and any chance of passing off as just trying to get away from it all for a bit would be gone."

"Please, they're going crazy with this, and you know it."

Though he looked like he wanted to argue, Sebastian finally nodded. "I'm not sure where he'll sleep. There's only the four beds."

With a nod, Marian turned and stepped back outside, seeing that Jowan and Carver were still in a standoff. Bethany stood with her their brother, a her and Marian's bags at her feet.

"You can come," Marian declared, hopping off the boat to get Carver and Sebastian's things. As she shoved the suitcases over the side of the boat, Carver darted back to her.

"Are you insane? We don't know him!" His voice lowered, "and he's got more than just one cut on him. There's cuts all over his hands and wrists."

Marian paused to really look Jowan over. He was gangly and awkward looking, not much in the way of menaces. However, she could see the marks on his arms, mostly fresh.

When he noticed she was looking at his scars, he tugged his sleeves down, shifting his weight, "When the templars started looking for people I thought maybe it would be better if I…" He shuddered. "I could never go through with it."

Marian shuddered at the thought that people were willing to kill themselves rather than live with magic. The thought had never even crossed her mind, though she abruptly wondered if Bethany had ever considered it.

Maker, let her be stronger than that.

"You can come," Marian repeated, nodding to him.

Jowan's whole demeanor changed, his eyes lighting up as he nodded, thanking them profusely.

Carver eyed the newcomer a moment before Marian hit his arm and motioned for him to come with her to get their food and gas from the car.

With air traffic ground to a halt and roads closely monitored, they'd been left with few ways to get out of Kirkwall. Luckily, Sebastian's contacts had come through, lending him a boat with no questions asked, and telling him they'd swing by to bring his car back to the city in the next day or so. He'd managed to secure charts and the like as well, and having boated quite a bit with his family when he was younger, he'd felt this was truly the Maker watching out for them.

Proof that the Maker loved all his children, magic or not.

Marian and Carver had barely made it back to the gate, both laden with what they'd need to make sure they would only need one more trip, when a sharp shout stopped them in their tracks.

"You there! Halt!"

Both of them froze, and Marian's heart sank. Somehow, she knew without looking.

Jowan had unwittingly led the templars right to them.

Turning around slowly, Marian donned one of her best smiles. "Hey there! Can we help—"

"Another mage," one of the men murmured, their tactical gear emblazoned with that flaming sword.

There were five of them, with guns pointed at her and Carver. Marian lowered the food she'd been carrying, trying to look compliant. "My fiancé is taking me and my siblings out on a boating trip. We registered everything—"

One of the other templars stormed up to her and gripped one of her wrists, jerking her arm up to inspect her before taking her other wrist and then looking back at the others. "She's not like the one we're looking for."

The templars lowered their weapons and approached. "You've gone through all the channels?"

"I can get my fiancé to come talk to you if you want," Marian offered, pointing over her shoulder.

"He can do it," the first templar replied, motioning to Carver. "Without the gas."

Carver looked like he wanted to fight, but instead lowered the cannisters and jogged back to the boat.

Before he was even out of earshot, another of the templars stepped up to Marian and showed her a picture of Jowan. "Have you seen this man?"

Marian reached up to take the picture, and the templar pulled it back a little, just enough to let her know that she was not welcome to touch.

Not trusted to.

Marian made a show of inspecting the picture and then shrugged. "Well, we passed a guy running down the road, heading back toward Kirkwall on our way out here. We thought about asking if he needed a ride, but when we slowed down, he ducked back into the woods."

"Where was this exactly?"

Marian pointed toward the road. "Maybe…wow, I'm not great with distances, but maybe a mile?"

"Is that true?" the templar turned to look over her shoulder, and she followed his gaze to see Sebastian and Carver returning. Jowan and Bethany were nowhere in sight.

Carver simply nodded as Sebastian came forward and showed them the paperwork, one of which had that flaming sword up in the header. Even as Marian wondered about that, the templars nodded.

"Papers are good."

The first one sighed. "So you say he was heading back to Kirkwall?"

Carver shrugged, catching on quick enough after hearing the tail end of Marian's conversation. "Like she said, he ducked into the woods, so for all we know he turned around or went north or…" He shrugged again. "He wasn't our problem."

"You're lucky for that," the templar murmured before motioning to the others. "Let the Knight-commander know he might be headed back and…"

The orders sounded like something out of a dystopian movie that Bethany always liked to watch.

However, rather than listen to them as they headed off, Sebastian lightly squeezed her waist and then whispered, "We need to get going. Now."

She followed him to the car, helping him with what was left. "You're mad."

"I don't like lying," Sebastian murmured.

"You didn't."

At that, he stopped and leaned close to her. "What do you think half of these papers are?"

She remembered the one with the flaming sword on it and bit her lip. "I take it we're not really cleared to leave?"

The look on his face answered her question.

Heart sinking a little, she couldn't help but wonder about Jowan. Despite standing up for him, the templars had, upon their first meeting with her, been surprisingly uninterested. Maybe they weren't the same as the ones of the past.

Maybe…

She shook her head and handed Carver her bags before remembering to go back for the stuff she'd set down when the templars had come up.

No one said another word until the dock was a tiny dot on the horizon.

…-…

Tall and handsome and cold. The elf wore intricate armor and held a ball of magic in front of him, green light swirling around it. It drew the sky down, piece by piece, and the world was consumed with creatures Emmi had never seen before.

Even as she tried to get a better look at the elf dismantling the sky, he turned to look at her, a harsh light in his eyes.

You should not be here.

Emmi's eyes snapped open and she sat up—or rather tried to. Fluff was sprawled out with her head on Emmi's chest and the beast made it a bit hard to move. She stared up at the ceiling, half wondering if she should check if the sky was still…

Normal wasn't the word she wanted. As it had been the last few weeks.

Her dreams were getting clearer and clearer. She saw those horrifying creatures often, but also other things. Shining knights and elegant creatures that looked almost like their gowns were made of flower petals.

The last few nights, however, she'd seen ruins and magic and…

It didn't make a lot of sense.

Tonight, however, had been the worst dream in a while. The elf had hardly been as horrifying to look at compared to most of the creatures, but he had _seen_ her.

She didn't know how, but he had known she was there, and it terrified her.

Laying an arm over her face, she welcomed the darkness when it didn't bring remnants of her dreams flashing before her eyes.

"I'm screwed Fluff."

The mabari whined, shuffling around on the bed until she was licking Emmi's chin, after only stepping on Emmi once.

Emmi lowered her arm and pushed Fluff back a bit, finally able to sit up. The fact that her dog sat a bit taller than she did made her feel tiny, like she was surrounded by a human basketball team.

Leaning into Fluff's chest, she smooshed her face against the mabari. "Let's run away."

Fluff let out a happy bark.

"You'd follow me to the edge of Thedas, wouldn't you?"

Another affirmative bark.

"I'm glad you have my back."

More happy barking.

A knock on her bedroom door interrupted the revelry, and Alistair's voice came through, muffled through the door as Fluff's ears perked up and she sat straighter, ready to defend. "Um, if you're up, breakfast is ready."

"If my pancake is smiling at me, I'm giving it to Fluff."

Fluff barked happily again, stub of a tail thumping wildly against the bedsheets as Alistair whined about how underappreciated his cooking was on the other side of the door.

Emmi couldn't help it; she hated eating anything that looked at her, and that included pancakes with happy faces. How could they be happy when they were being eaten. She'd had to tell Alistair to stop whatever joke he was starting after she'd said that.

He'd been so disappointed, though he was soon making playful quips at the news.

As she wandered out into the kitchen, not bothering to take off her pajamas, Alistair gave her a wide grin from the oven and then slide few pancakes with suspiciously abstract lines across them onto a plate and held them out to her.

She waited until they were both finished eating before slumping against the table and looking him over. "How have your dreams been?"

"Terrible, as always," he replied with a shrug.

Emmi hesitated. Neither of them had really talked about their dreams, beyond the fact that there were horrible creatures in them. Describing the things made both of them uneasy, and so an unspoken truce had arisen in which they simply kept quiet about it.

Now, though…

"Do you ever have dreams where someone sees you?"

As soon as she said it, she was ready to explain, fully expecting another joke about invisibility or something ridiculous.

Instead, Alistair simply nodded. "There's a man with an orb. I've seen him a few times and he…does not like me." He paused, scratching at the back of his neck. "It's weird. He's not scary looking, but he's…"

"Terrifying," Emmi finished. "He takes down the sky."

"Yes," Alistair nodded, eyes widening. "With that orb—" He cut himself off when he saw Emmi's brow pinch together and then he winced. "Oh, they're just starting for you, aren't they?"

"Yeah."

"Well, he's got some orb, it's the green thing in his hand."

"Do you think he's behind the cracks in the sky?" Emmi asked, puzzled as Alistair got up from his seat and rummaged around in his things. Pulling out a receipt, he came back to the table with that and a pencil and began scribbling. When he was done, he held up what looked like…well, scribbles.

"It's got a weird design on it. The orb." He paused, weighing something in his head before blurting, "I think it's elvhen."

Narrowing her eyes, she watched him another minute and then took the receipt from him. It was meaningless scribbles, but Alistair wasn't the kind of guy to point fingers at elves when things were going awry for no reason.

"I guess we could ask Velanna if she's heard of it."


	7. In Motion

Marian slid down the wall of the alley she'd taken refuge in, trying to keep her breathing quiet. She'd hidden herself behind a dumpster, and as she focused on her breathing, footsteps thundered toward her direction.

She heard a few sharp shouts, though she couldn't focus enough to make out any specific words, and then the footsteps receded.

Still, she tried to stay quiet.

Jowan was a fucking blood mage.

Or, he had been.

They'd found that out as they came into dock after a pleasant few days on the boat. Jowan had been friendly and helpful, and the perfect gentleman. Marian had never seen someone so pleasant, so easy to be around—well, except for Sebastian.

And then the templars had been waiting for them at the dock. When Sebastian tried to show them the faked papers, the head templar had tossed them into the water.

Before they'd been able to figure out what to do, what to say, Jowan sliced open his palm.

Marian shuddered.

What followed had been horrifying.

He couldn't have used as much blood as it seemed, but it had been everywhere. The templars had been choking on it, suffocating under a spell.

Marian, unthinking, had shoved Jowan to break his concentration, her voice shrill as she asked, "What are you doing?"

Before he could answer, a bullet hit his shoulder and then…

Then he hadn't been a person anymore, but a huge, twisted mass of flesh and veins and…

Marian gulped, covering her face with her hands.

Abominations were real.

She'd always thought the old documentation of them was just fearmongering, Chantry propaganda. She hadn't thought that a body could actually contort and expand like that.

To think, one misstep and she could…

A shiver passed through her.

How many of the people going missing were abominations?

After the templars had finished off Jowan, they'd turned on the rest of them. It hadn't mattered whether they had magic or not—even though they had hit Bethany with a silence when she tried to heal one of them.

Marian and her merry band had aided a blood mage, and that meant they were all condemned.

Marian had caused a burst of flames to distract the templars, and then she and the others had run. The templars had focused on her, and she'd split off from the group, using a few more fireblasts to keep them following her.

As her spell had tapered off, she'd heard a deep voice whispering to her, offering help, and she'd used the spell offered, watching as a duplicate of herself materialized like something out of a fog, running ahead of her.

That was when she'd ducked into the alley.

Now, she listened, waiting for those footsteps to come back, to be hit with a silence that made her fall to her knees like it had Bethany.

Maker, Bethany was safe, wasn't she?

Of course she was.

Sebastian and Carver would take care of her.

Everything would be okay. Marian just needed to get back to them.

Or should she? The others hadn't caused a scene, hadn't taunted and defied the templars. Maybe it would be better if she stayed away. Maybe they'd be safer…

"Mare?"

She blinked and straightened up, listening until the voice that had called her sounded again.

Sebastian.

Pushing herself to her feet, she saw him as he hurried past the alley, figuring it as empty as the templars had. She darted after him, calling him back to the entrance and then throwing her arms around him.

He held her tightly. Then, far too soon, he let her go and caught one of her hands, tugging her back into the main street. "Let's go."

Despite the urge to cry, the urge to argue and point out how she was likely someone the templars would be looking for now, she followed him, curling her hand tightly around his.

He'd come back.

It had taken him so long to accept her when her magic woke that a part of her thought that perhaps he would think the same as she was, that it would be better to leave without her.

But he'd come back to save her.

And what had he expected to do if he ran into the templars? Sebastian didn't own a gun or any weapon.

Her mind ran through so many scenarios where he ended up getting hurt because of her that she was barely able to keep up with him, and it wasn't until Bethany was flinging her arms around Marian's neck that she finally came back to the present.

They had gone to an empty summer home near the beach that the Vael family owned. While Sebastian was a little worried that connections between the boat and his family's home might be drawn, they had nowhere else to go, and didn't want to risk going to a hotel. With travel so limited right now, it would definitely raise a few eyebrows.

And so they settled into the room with the least windows—that didn't say much as they were in a beach house—and considered their situation.

They'd lost all of their supplies back at the boat, and while Carver was up for trying to sneak back and get the essentials, the rest of them agreed that if the templars were still looking for them—they had to be—that the boat was probably being watched.

"We could go to a thrift store and get some things," Marian finally offered. "Just maybe one or two changes of clothes."

"All of our funds are on the boat," Sebastian replied. "I have my debit card, but then there will be a record that I'm here."

"So we get supplies as fast as possible and leave," Marian said, mulling it over carefully. "Then by the time they come to see where we are, we're already on our way out of the city."

"Security isn't as bad here as it is in Denerim, so we might actually be able to get out of here." Carver scratched at the back of his neck. "We heard people talking on the way over. Apparently Denerim is in complete lock down."

Marian shuddered. Good thing they hadn't gone there.

After a little more brainstorming, Bethany finally joined in. "We could go to the Wilds. In the stories, mages always went there for protection. It's hard for templars to cover so much ground."

"And we'd have to cross a whole country to get there," Carver butted in. "I told you, it's a bad idea."

At that, Marian rolled her eyes. "Do we have any good ones?"

…-…

Meredith cleared a few reports from her desk and then clasped her hands on it, smiling at her latest guest to show that the woman had her utmost attention.

Dr. Clarel didn't seem particularly thrilled to be there, but returned her smile with a polite one.

Meredith appraised her before finally breaking the silence between them. "Let's talk about your clinical trials."

"Why? You already put an end to them."

Without hesitation, Meredith simply folded her hands on her desk. "Many of your volunteers noticed something wrong with the sky, the same problem that more than a few mages now claim to be true."

"Knight-Commander," Dr. Clarel stated, expression severe. "You already have all of my notes, all of my research. I wouldn't be surprised if you'd gone and combed through my early papers, too. Whatever your point is, make it."

That she was so no-nonsense about the matter was refreshing, and Meredith nodded to her, smile slightly more genuine. It was fleeting. "You were trying to wake mages, or rather their magic, were you not?"

At that, Dr. Clarel straightened up, surprised. "Of course not. Before all this madness, I thought magic a myth."

"But not darkspawn?" Meredith asked, head tilting. She had indeed read the doctor's earlier papers and research, anything to try to understand what had been going through the woman's mind when she came up with this…ill-conceived study.

"There is clear evidence that they existed, and that the Blights were real as well." Dr. Clarel said, straightening up in her chair. "I was hoping to recreate the ability to sense darkspawn in my patients."

Meredith's mind blanked for a second, though Dr. Clarel continued.

"Dr. Erimond assured me that the latest batch of injections would do the trick—"

Recovering at the mention of Dr. Clarel's associate, Meredith rose from her desk, looking down her nose at Dr. Clarel. As the woman quieted, Meredith turned to her stack of papers, plucked the top one from it, and tossed it to her guest. "Dr. Erimond, the dear doctor who opened his wrists and drowned a dozen of my templars in blood and demons, was most certainly trying to waken magic. All of his failed experiments were proof of that. Tevinter had grown tired of funding his failures, so he came to you."

"No," Dr. Clarel insisted, even as she scanned through Dr. Erimond's last proposal. "This…no. He said he was tired of the failures and that he wanted to invest in a project that might be able to work."

"So you knew nothing of his tampering with your chemical compounds?"

Dr. Clarel was paling by the minute as she continued to scan the pages in front of her. "This is…wrong. This can't be."

Growing weary of the woman's dismay, Meredith reached out and plucked the papers from the doctor's grasp, setting them back on her desk. "I believe you when you say that you didn't know about this. However, I am worried about what may have become your test subjects and would like to do a follow up with them to make sure they are we—"

At that, Dr. Clarel scoffed. "Please. I am not stupid—" At that, she hesitated, gaze wandering back down to Dr. Erimond's notes. "Some evidence may seem to the contrary, but I know you've already picked up my test subjects and colleagues. I've watched as they disappeared, one by one. Always taken by men with the burning swords on their breast pocket."

Meredith frowned. She'd told the idiots to be careful not to be seen, and they were wearing their uniforms while taking these test subjects into custody? It was like someone was _trying_ to make the public aware of their actions.

 _That_ was something she'd have to look into later.

For now, however, she simply smiled thinly at Dr. Clarel. "We have questioned a few, though we hardly detained them… unless they gave us cause to." She noted the look of disgust on Dr. Clarel's face and then sat back down at her desk. "However, there are a few of your volunteers who have eluded us, and we would very much like to have a word with them. Where are they?"

…-…

Kieran's truck was probably twenty years old, but despite the rust and dents in it, it could tackle Ferelden's backroads like nothing Aleeri had ever seen. Aleeri could feel every rut and hole the tires hit, but the damned thing just kept on rolling forward, undaunted by the jarring that would have had a newer vehicle's tire alignment ruined.

Granted, he might have enjoyed the rust-bucket a bit more if he'd actually been able to fit in the cab.

As it was, he would have been hard-pressed to get his horns in it anyway—without the other three up front.

Dagna and Thom's injuries had proved a bit worse than Aleeri's, and so they'd been offered the precious seats in the cab. Kieran had been apologetic about Aleeri's situation, but it had still felt insulting when he'd offered to use some of his cables like a makeshift seatbelt to tie Aleeri in.

While his pride had led him to assure Kieran that he was not a piece of furniture to be tied down, now he almost wished he'd taken up the offer as his fingers were sore from gripping the side of the truck for so long. He'd nearly bounced out of the bed three times already.

Kieran was quick to apologize through his open window every time it happened.

This little adventure was just…too much.

Aleeri wanted to go home.

Magic was no longer in need of being proven real, and he was exhausted with all the things going on lately. He wanted his warm bed where he could drift off and not think about demons or templars. To a place where he wasn't the supposed descendant of one of the most well-known figures in history.

That he could be descended from the great inquisitor seemed surreal.

And the fact that demons would be after his blood to undo a seal that kept them locked away was…horrifying.

What bothered him more was that he was only 'one' of the bloodlines. Who else was there? Kieran hadn't deemed it necessary to tell him, and was quite good at avoiding the topic whenever it came up.

They'd been on the road for two days now, and the journey thus far left little in the way of time for chatting.

Or sleep. When they did stop, it was always to sleep in sleeping bags in the truck bed or cab, and it was miserably uncomfortable.

"We're going to have to turn around!"

The words were shouted through the open back window of the cab, and Aleeri jumped at the sound. Even as he looked, bewildered, to see Cole settle down in the back beside him, the boy gave him a simple smile.

"The templars are moving up ahead. There's been a run for the Wilds and they're cutting the easy routes off."

Aleeri ran a hand down his face before immediately reaching out to grip the side again as they hit yet another rut in the ground. Cole didn't so much as flinch. In fact, he looked eerily unmoving as he sat beside Aleeri, completely unconcerned with getting flung out of the back of the truck.

"I could tell you a spell, if you'd like a smoother ride," Cole offered, reading Aleeri's mind.

At least, he seemed to.

"Only when it helps." Cole rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a pen and paper, scribbling down a few words before holding it out to Aleeri.

Kieran had explained that Cole was a spirit, a creature of the Fade who had been trapped in the Waking World for a very, very long time.

Dagna adored him, but Aleeri couldn't help but think of the gorgeous, seductive qunari who had turned out to actually be a desire demon. Or the thing that had dragged Dagna into the underbelly of Skyhold.

Neither had been real—in that instant, Dagna hadn't been either—and it made him wonder about the boy he was sitting beside. What did he really look like?

"I look like me."

Aleeri turned to eye Cole and found he was still holding out that paper. It took a moment of concentration to be able to grab it amdist all the bumps and jostles, but when he had it, Aleeri looked the spell over and frowned.

It fit in with the sort of spell structures he'd studied.

Aleeri peered back up at Cole. "You know, I'd be remiss if I didn't consider all the stories about demons whispering in mages ears, pretending to be helpful so that they could take possession of them."

At that, Cole reached out and patted Aleeri's knee. "I don't need to do that, though. I'm already here."

That was a good point, and with that, Aleeri cast the spell.


	8. Downhill Slope

A/N: Sorry for the long hiatus. Hoping to have the next chapter up around New Year's.

...-...

"This is a foci," Velanna said, sliding an impossibly old book over to Alistair and Emmi. Fluff was sitting out in the hall and had been quite distraught that she could be abandoned because of something so simple as 'allergies', but Orana had heard her forlorn howls and come to the rescue, promising Emmi that there would not be too many consolation treats.

As it was, Fluff had been quiet for a bit too long now, and Emmi could help but glance toward the door to see if she could tell from the shadows under it if Fluff was still there.

"There's a lot of speculation around them, and most people say they aren't real," Velanna's voice dripped with disdain and Emmi knew she was talking about human scholars. They had a way of dismissing any ideas that Elvhen things could have held power. Her gaze was pointedly on the book between them and not on Alistair, who Emmi had had to vouch for multiple times before Velanna had finally let them in.

All the more reason for Fluff's indignation.

"So it's elvhen," Emmi repeated, hoping it would prompt more out of her.

With a sigh, Velanna nodded. Then she paused, brow scrunching together as she closed her eyes. After a moment, she opened them and Emmi could swear she could see bits of the sky swirling in her pupils.

Velanna had come into magic. Maybe this was a manifestation?

"If you read stories of the inquisitor from the Dragon Age, you'll hear about a foci. It's what made the rift that let the demons through. It was owned by the fabled Dread Wolf."

"Surprised we don't hear more about that, then," Alistair offered, to which Velanna and Emmi both scoffed.

"I've no doubt it will make a come back now. Humans love to push the blame onto elves, whenever they can." Velanna pulled her book away from them and leveled them with a stern look. "Why did you want to know about this?"

"We've having dreams," Emmi said, interrupting Alistair before he could say the same thing. Better it come from her. "There's a man, an elf, and he's got one of these and he takes the sky down." She hesitated, unwittingly interrupting Velanna as she started to try to evaluate the dreams to add, "And he sees us."

"Sees you? So you're witnessing his…rituals or—"

"No," Alistair interrupting, earning a wary glare. "No, we mean in the dream. He sees us while we're dreaming, knows we're dreaming about him. It's…hard to explain. But he's very much not something we made up and we're somehow seeing something he doesn't want us to see."

"And we think he's a real person, not a demon," Emmi added. "Because we see the demons, all around him. They leave him alone."

Velanna sat very still across from them, mouth a thin line before she turned her book back toward her and silently flipped through a few pages. When she found the one she wanted, she turned the book back toward them. "Is this him?"

The picture was highly stylized without any tiny details, but when they stared down at the image, Emmi's blood ran cold. In the image, a figure stood in front of a flaming tree, holding his hand out as though to stop the massive, dark wolf on the opposite side of the painting.

"That's him."

Velanna closed the book sharply. "That's…not good."

"I think it's great!" Alistair argued, reaching out to tap the book. "If we know who it is, then maybe we can piece together what happened and…" His voice died in his throat as he looked up to see Velanna's expression had grown even grimmer than before.

"I doubt anyone would say this was good," Velanna said slowly, gaze lowered as she tried to think how best to explain what was wrong. "If this is who you're seeing…"

"Just tell us." Emmi leaned across the table and caught Velanna's hand. "We can handle it and, like Alistair said, we can figure out what's going on if we can identify this guy, I'm sure."

Velanna flinched, as though her words stung. "Emmi, you're dreaming about the Dread Wolf."

…-…

 **Let me help you, child. With my power, you could traverse continents in a blink of an eye.**

Marian's eyes snapped open, and she sucked in a sharp breath as she shot upright, out of Sebastian's arms. Her whole body felt numb, and for a moment, she was almost certain she must have said 'yes'.

Even as she looked down at herself, sure to see her skin transformed the way Jowan's had, arms wrapped around her, pulling her close.

"You're safe, love."

"It was so…close," she whispered.

As she spoke, little things began to feel. Dew drops on exposed toes, the chill of the wind as it breezed by. The warmth of Sebastian's embrace. Tears on her cheeks.

She was still her, still whole.

Leaning against Sebastian, she did her best to stifle her sobs on his shoulder. It wouldn't do to wake Bethany and Carver. They'd already been through so much and Bethany…

Maker, she was going through this, too, wasn't she?

The whispers, the constant interruption of dreams, the promises, the promises.

The voice who had helped her escape the templars had been quiet for some time now, with others filling the void.

So many others.

Marian wanted desperately to talk to someone about it, but she was afraid of what Carver and Sebastian would say, of what they would think.

And she was afraid that if she brought it up to Bethany, she would learn that her sister _wasn't_ going through this. That her will was stronger, that the voices were mere whispers, like they had been originally, not eager shouts.

"I caught a rabbit."

Carver's voice interrupted Marian's spiral, and she peeked up at him from Sebastian's shoulder. There was no way he couldn't have seen the tear streaks on her face, but he acted as though he didn't. "So you want us to eat a bunny?"

"Better than nothing, isn't it?" Carver snapped. Mud streaked down his clothes—not that they'd been in great condition before, considering they'd been on the run for so long—and there was an actual twig poking out of his hair.

Giving him a crooked grin as she wiped her face, she leaned forward to appraise the catch. It did look fantastic, though a mouse probably would have had her drooling at this point. "So…how do we get the hair off the hare?"

Carver rolled his eyes at her pun, though she heard a soft snerk from Sebastian that made it worth it. "I…don't know. Skin it."

"How?"

"I don't…use some spell or something. _I_ caught it."

"Well, I can fireblast it into the next century, but I don't know that that will make it edible," Marian mumbled, wondering if there actually _were_ any skinning spells. While it would be useful and likely did exist for this sort of thing, Marian imagined that sort of spell could just as easily be turned upon a person and shuddered at the thought.

"I don't think magic is the answer here," Bethany offered.

Glancing over, Marian felt a twinge of guilt. Bethany's hair was unkempt and wild—like Marian's—and her clothes were a rumpled mess. She shouldn't have had to live like this.

But then, what were the alternatives?

Stay in the city where people were disappearing?

If only even one of them had bothered to be the outdoors type. Carver had enjoyed hiking, but beyond that, he'd never been one for camping or anything of the sort.

And Sebastian…he'd been camping with his family, but it was always the posh kind, where they had the highend tents and the coolers full of food.

None of them even knew how to fish.

Taking in a slow breath, Marian rummaged through her ever-dwindling supplies and tugged out a small pocket knife. She reached her other hand out toward the rabbit. "Give it here. How hard can it be?"

…-…

Meredith drummed her fingers against her arm as she stood next to the autopsy table. There were a dozen tables in the room and each of them was occupied with masses of flesh that could barely be contained within the standard 87 x 31 inches. The flesh was barely recognizable as human, as it was twisted and misshapen…and expanded.

"You're telling me DNA says this was Idunna Cathwall?"

The mortician gave her a short nod. "100% match."

Meredith lifted the file she was holding and flipped through it. "The woman was 5'6. This…thing is—"

"Over eight feet, yes."

Annoyed to have been interrupted, Meredith chose to keep her gaze on the document in hand rather than glare at the man working for her. "Quentin, is it? Quentin Malef? Odd last name."

"Family was supposed to be blood mages back in the day, took a surname to scare the locals. Never bothered to change it." He gave her an awkward smile that she saw from the corner of her eye. Abruptly, he added, "Not that I've got any magic, myself. Don't even know that my family really had it. That's just the story."

"Of course," Meredith murmured, not caring in particular. Had the man any substantial ties to magic, the wards placed on the building would have let them know. "What I want to know is how her body changed like this? She weighed 135 lbs and this thing is…?"

The silence between them drew on far longer than necessary before Quentin realized he was being asked. "Almost 300." Before Meredith could prompt him again, he moved to one of the major bulges on the grotesque creature's shoulder. He reached down to a long cut he'd made and carefully pulled back the skin, revealing what looked to be bones of some kind. Mutilated and twisted. "I think, if I may?"

"By all means."

"I think that the tales of the demons coming through were literal, and we're seeing the demons, well, trying to come through. It's botched, though, so they make it, but their physical bodies are well…"

"So we're looking at a demon's corpse inside a mage's corpse?"

"I think so. If I could have a few more samples, I could probably prove this."

"You've got a roomful."

With a smile that was perhaps a bit too wide for Meredith's liking, Quentin nodded and, without a word or request for dismissal, turned to the next corpse, scalpel already in hand.

Even when people didn't have magic, it seemed to bring out the worst in them.

Turning away, Meredith swept out of the room, back and shoulders straight as ever. The only indication that she was truly bothered by what she was seeing was a faint shiver as she left the room, though that easily could have been the temperature difference.

This magic business was as dangerous as the old texts said, and if nothing else, Meredith would see to it that it was reined in.


	9. From Bad to Worse

"Do we actually know where we're going?" Thom asked as he leaned closer to Aleeri. Dagna was busy chatting up Kieran as though she didn't mind all the ways the odd man would sidestep questions.

Aleeri rolled one shoulder and then the other, pausing to eye the truck. He really didn't want to get back into the back of that thing, and not just because the ride was miserable. Like Thom, more and more, he was wondering who exactly Kieran was, how he was so good with magic, and how he knew where to go.

Supposedly, they were going to gather an ancient artifact that could be activated with Aleeri's blood—more fucking blood magic.

It was supposed to fix everything, but Kieran hadn't really explained how.

And it didn't help that they didn't know who had initially summoned the demons, either.

They had been after Aleeri's blood too.

For all he knew, Kieran had summoned them and was trying to salvage whatever plan he'd made now by going for this...whatever it was.

Aleeri had been practicing with his magic, hoping to get it better under his control, but he was also hoping that he could use it, if need be, to defend them.

Though, Kieran had been practicing a lot longer, as was obvious with every campfire he snapped into existence and doused the same. He'd done other things, healing them for one, but they didn't really know what he was capable of.

"Somewhere in the Bracillian Forest, from what I understand," Aleeri murmured, giving Thom a look that said he didn't trust what was going on either. Thom simply nodded.

"I won't let him hurt you."

Cole's soft voice came from nowhere and both men started, turning to find the spirit beside them, watching. Aleeri wanted to trust Cole—most of the time he did, instinctively—but Cole had shown up with Kieran and…

"The world hurts, but I don't want that. I want to help. I've been helping for so long…" His voice drifted for a moment, before he looked back at them. "The veil can't stay torn like this. Either it must be sealed or it must be opened. Anything in between will just cause pain. It—"

"Cole," Kieran called abruptly, motioning for the spirit to come to him and Dagna.

Thom and Aleeri shared a look before walking after the spirit and plastering smiles to their faces as Dagna talked about some of the theory Kieran was discussing with her. With luck, Kieran didn't suspect that they were growing wary.

And anyway, he needed Aleeri's blood, right? Hopefully that would keep him from anything too dastardly for the time being.

After all, it wasn't like they could just leave. The templars were looking for them, and from what little they'd heard on the radio, the world was falling apart. They were as safe here as anywhere else.

And if Aleeri could actually fix this...it was worth a shot, even if it did mean a bit of blood spilled.

For the right cause, of course.

…-…

"Are we actually doing this?" Alistair whispered, glancing around in what Emmi assumed was supposed to be a nonchalant manner. Really, the giant of a man just looked like someone had kicked him in the ass.

Fluff took his lead and gave the park they were in a once over, though at least the dog didn't look paranoid.

When Velanna had heard about the Dread Wolf dreams, she'd told them to drop whatever it was. Try to take sleeping pills, anything, because they did not want to go up against a wrathful trickster god.

The dreams had been more and more vivid, and the Dread Wolf was angrier each time Emmi saw him.

She'd been trying to stay up—hopped up on caffeine as much as she could be—but sleep had claimed her while she listened to Shianni lecture her about taking better care of herself.

One minute, Shianni had been jerking the curtains open and telling her and Alistair that they looked like fucking drug addicts. The next, she'd been face to face with the very person she was trying to avoid.

Red flickered in his eyes as they focused on her so completely. The air was heavy with power, his power. It felt like it was poised to crush her.

His stance was strong, proud, no hint that he'd ever been outsmarted. Rather, he looked very much like he was exactly where he wanted to be. His hands were clasped behind his back, and he looked down his nose at her, tall for an elf.

Or was he short for a god?

She couldn't say.

He tilited his head and opened his mouth to speak, that magic around them pressing down, suffocating.

Emmi shrieked, flailing her arms in front of her and startling both Fluff and Shianni. About the same time, Alistair had jerked up from where he'd passed out, terror in his eyes.

As Fluff had pawed wildly at Emmi, trying to assure her that she would be fine, Shianni gripped her and shook her. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"The Dread Wolf…" Emmi whispered, gaze flitting about as though the man would be in the apartment with them, waiting to pounce. "He sees me."

"Sees us," Alistair whispered.

Emmi looked at Alistair, shaking. "What's he going to do to us?"

Even as Alistair had shaken his head, lost, Fluff let out a wail of a howl and flopped down into Emmi's lap, distraught that her attempts at comfort were going unnoticed. Emmi had collapsed onto the beast, burying her face in her fur and assuring the mabari that everything would be alright.

It was hard to convince the beast when she couldn't convince herself.

That was when Velanna had turned up. Shianni had gone to get her the second she'd heard mention of the Dread Wolf.

Emmi had noticed her when the elf took her hand and slipped something over it. As Velanna tightened in around her wrist, Emmi peered up at her. "What's this?"

"An old Dalish charm. I don't know if it will actually keep the Dread Wolf's gaze off you...especially if he's already seen you, but...it's all I have." As she spoke, she'd moved to give one to Alistair as well.

Alistair had laughed weakly. "So which of us should go back to sleep and see if it works?" The usual humor in his voice was flat as he grimaced at the thought.

Velanna, however, sat on the couch beside Fluff—it was her sister who was allergic, not her—and motioned to them. "If you're seeing him, there must be a reason or...something. Tell me everything you remember from your dreams. Every little detail, no matter how vague or strange."

That had been this morning. Velanna had managed to piece together lonely columns and leaves falling past demons and brought them to her apartment to look at books that had different places drawn out.

When they'd both pointed to one spot, recognizing it, Velanna had snapped the book shut. "I have to go." Then she'd looked at them and frowned. "You should come with me. I doubt you're safe. The Dread Wolf always has followers."

And so here they were, waiting on Velanna's contact who could, supposedly, get them out of the city. As they stood there, trying to look inconspicuous—as though a human, elf, and mabari hanging out in the park wasn't conspicuous in itself—a truck pulled up and the driver waved them forward.

They wouldn't have moved toward her, except that Emmi recognized the bracelet on her arm as Dalish. When they got to the side of the truck, Emmi almost ducked away, realizing the driver was dwarven.

Luckily, the dwarf didn't seem to care that they were skittish. Even as Emmi started to turn away, Velanna poked her head into the back seat window and motioned for her to go around and get in.

The dwarf waited patiently as they climbed in the passenger side, pausing to pet Fluff gleefully as she sat between Velanna and Emmi in the back.

"Sigrun," the dwarf offered each of them a quick handshake before setting her truck into drive. Her face was heavily tattooed, making her look somewhat ghoulish, though her hair was in adorable pigtails that contradicted it. "I take it the backpacks are all you need?"

Alistair fiddled with the straps on his as he held it in his lap, only pausing to double check that he was buckled up. "Yeah…"

"Alright," Sigrun turned onto the road and drummed her fingers against her steering wheel as the radio played softly. "Time for a road trip—"

She cut herself off as the radio station interrupted the song and proclaimed an emergency announcement was about to commence.

Emmi leaned forward, stomach clenching as the feeling that whatever this was, it was not going to help them sank in.

…-…

The way the cameras flashed as they readied for the press release made Meredith nervous. Not for herself, of course, but rather for her gamble and the person that it relied so heavily upon.

Cullen Rutherford stood at the podium, suit fresh and crisp, with a bit of makeup to drown out those ever-present rings around his eyes that made him look most haunted.

Not that that was something they'd been able to get rid of. There was a pain in his eyes that no amount of touch ups could hide.

Meredith had told Cullen that everything would be okay, but she was rather hoping he might break down, at least a little. Give the people a show, for that was what they generally wanted, wasn't it?

So long as it didn't happen too early, from the stress of the attention.

The room got quiet as someone gave Cullen the signal to start. He gave Meredith a glance, and she nodded to him firmly. With her support, he collected himself and looked out into the audience.

"My name is Cullen Rutherford," he began, voice a little slow. He winced as the mic screeched at him. "Some of you may know me from the news. It's actually what I'd like to talk about."

Meredith scanned the crowd as Cullen when over the details of Kirkwall, of the creatures that had appeared. Of the people who had summoned them.

Mages.

"Mages are not people like you and me," he pleaded. The mic whined again, and abruptly he gripped it and unplugged it. Even as a murmur rose up through the crowd, he looked at them. "It started for us with technology failing. The exercise was over and the cars wouldn't start. The walkies wouldn't work, either. Magic doesn't exist well with technology, and mages who know how to use it can bring entire networks down. They can control the electricity in cars and computers and keep it from functioning."

His voice was surprisingly clear as he spoke out.

One of the nearest reporters raised her hand, already speaking without being acknowledged. "When your unit was wiped out, the sky hadn't fallen—"

"No, it hadn't." Cullen spat the words, anger welling up in him. "The thing you don't understand is that mages never went away. The strongest of them have been practicing and searching for the next generation to teach for centuries. There were only three who attacked us. One man in his sixties. The other two were early twenties at most. They summoned the demons and—with an Order convinced that such things were fairy tales, we didn't have much of a chance. They were able to wipe out an entire military unit, just the three of them. And everyone decided that I was the guilty party, so they didn't even _look_ for them." He leveled the woman with a hard look and motioned vaguely about. "What do you think they can do now?"

The gasps that swept through the room made Meredith hold her breath. This was the moment that would define how things went forward. Either there would be an outcry that this was madness, or…

"How does the Order intend to protect people against these stronger mages?"

"Maleficar," Cullen corrected. "Many mages will be good people, but all of them can hear the demons' whispers, and it just takes one to do unimaginable damage."

Meredith stepped up next to Cullen, patting him on the shoulder. "I had wished to avoid instilling terror, if I could, but the time to act is now. Our base was attacked by demons before the sky fell, just as Cullen's unit was. We have been looking into the historical logs, and there is a clear pattern that looks to be mage or demon attacks, going all the way back to the legends of the Veil." Cameras flashed, but she ignored them. "You ask what we can do, to protect the good people of Thedas, and I will tell you. It starts with lyrium."


	10. Desperate Moves

Marian froze when she saw something moving in the woods ahead of them and held her arm out to stop the rest of the group.

They'd been making good time heading south. Or she assumed so at least. There were certainly more trees here than there had been earlier.

She'd also watched enough wildlife documentaries with Bethany to know that Ferelden had a bear problem. The two of them had confessed to having expected to encounter the damned things much more frequently than they had—which was not at all.

Considering their luck in that regard, Marian figured it was bound to run out some time.

Like now.

Even as they braced themselves for whatever might come, waiting for snarling teeth and jagged claws, the shadow that moved toward them under the trees was decidedly not bearish.

And when lightning crackled around the figure's fingertips, well, Marian knew they had a different kind of problem.

The man stood a few yards from them the lightning casting odd shadows across him, though she could guess that he looked as disheveled and miserable as they did.

Taking a chance, she held up her own hand and conjured fire. She quickly let it dissipate as the voices came tumbling into her mind, and tried not to shudder visibly.

If the man noticed, however, he didn't seem to care, because as soon as she'd conjured her fire, he was loping toward them, his own magic canceled. When he was close enough that they could talk without raising their voices, he said, "If you're going to the Wilds, you might as well turn around. The templars are already there and rounding up everyone they find, declaring them maleficar."

"Without proof?" Carver snapped, still tense like he might get in a fist fight with a man who could conjure lightning.

"They say that the 'need to flee' is proof enough." The man stopped in front of Marian, deeming her the leader of their little group, and shook his head in disgust. "Bastards."

He was taller than Marian, about Sebastian's height, with dirty blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail and dirt covering his face and clothes. He rubbed at the stubble on his chin and pointed over his shoulder. "They were following me, so I don't think you want to stand around chatting."

"Where can we go?" Bethany said, as Marian narrowed her eyes and scanned the woods for other signs of movement.

With a huff, the man crossed his arms. "Rivain, maybe? If you can make it that far."

"Is that where you're going?" Marian asked, looking back at him when she was confident that the templars must be at least a ways behind for him to stop and talk at all.

"I haven't thought that far ahead," he answered dryly. "I heard them talking, though, and it seems they're patrolling the edges of the Frostbacks as best they can, too."

"So...east?" Marian asked, feeling her heart sink. East was more woods and then...the ocean.

Before she could suggest they backtrack north, get on Sebastian's boat and just...live on the waves, Sebastian perked up. "Actually...there's a lot of uncharted islands to the east. If we could get to one of those...the only problem is we wouldn't have a way to contact the mainland and tell when everything's blown over."

"You think this is going to end in any way other than all the mages getting rounded up and killed?" their new acquaintance asked. "Because history would argue—"

"History would have us locked back up in towers," Marian corrected him before he could go off on whatever tyrade he had planned. There was no reason to scare Bethany with falsehoods.

At least, that was what she told herself as she fought not to look too frightened. What if he was right? What if they decided the Circles hadn't worked before and they…

Surely that wouldn't happen.

As the stranger snapped something at Carver—Maker help them, but he was actually going to get in a fight with someone with lightning at their fingertips—he reached up to scratch at his neck, and Marian noticed a ring on his ring finger. Unlike the rest of him, obvious attempts had been made to keep it clean.

"Are you traveling alone?"

The words were out before she could help herself.

Instantly, his gaze snapped to her. He appraised her a moment before shrugging. "What of it?"

She knew what the others would say, knew that this was a stupid idea. After all, the last person she'd let join them had been a damned blood mage.

But then, that was the problem with the world wasn't it? It saw one misuse of magic and decided that all magic would be misused.

"Do you want to come with us?"

Carver swore. Sebastian took in a slow breath as his fingers lightly rested on Marian's arm. Bethany looked worried.

The man...he looked like he didn't know what to do.

"I'm Marian, by the way. That's Beth, Carver, Sebastian."

He took in a slow breath and looked toward the east, toward whatever hope might lie for them there. "Anders."

…-...

"Stay down if you can," Cole whispered to Aleeri before seeming to disappear into thin air. Aleeri didn't have time to wonder what he'd meant, as the truck slowed to a stop and the sound of guns cocking reached his ears. It was followed swiftly with an order. "You are trespassing. Get out of your vehicle."

Aleeri peered around the edge of the truck, half expecting to be shot for that alone.

Instead, he could see almost a dozen soldiers, all wearing armor with the symbol of the Templar Order displayed proudly across their chests. His stomach sank when one saw him and motioned with the gun—pointed at him—to get out.

Moving slowly, so as not to frighten anyone into shooting prematurely, he climbed out of the truck bed. His feet had barely hit the ground when Kieran was scowling at him through the rearview mirror. Thom was halfway out of his door, as well, and Dagna already stood beside the truck—apparently their willingness to comply with orders had put Kieran in a fickle mood.

Kieran leaned out of his window and motioned toward the soldiers. "You must be mistaken. My family has owned these lands for centuries. I'm part of the Theirin line, you know."

"So's everyone else and their dog," scoffed one of the templars. "Get out of the truck."

Kieran rolled his eyes as Thom moved to stand with Dagna, but then swung his door open, letting out a pronounced sigh when several of the soldiers raised their weapons and demanded he slow down.

He made a point of closing his door with unnecessary care before looking at them again. "Care to tell me what this is about?"

"Those two are mages," a harsh-voiced woman muttered, and Aleeri baulked at that pale blue swirling in her eyes.

Lyrium.

"You're under arrest."

"What for?" Kieran asked, cocking his head. The guns lifted higher.

"For evading arrest and failure to comply—"

"How am I evading arrest, if I wasn't under it before? And haven't I gotten out of my vehicle as you requested?"

Aleeri's stomach turned. He didn't want to go with the templars, but moreso, he really didn't want to make them angry. He'd read enough historical texts to know where this would lead...death being the nicest ending they could hope for.

"That's the one who evaded us before," one of the other templars said to another, motioning to Aleeri. Then he pointed at Dagna and Thom. "And they helped him. The Knight-commander wants them all brought in. And that qunari is especially dangerous because he was studying magic before it...came back."

Aleeri almost wanted to laugh. Study he had, and yet despite his efforts, magic was not something that came easily to him. Perhaps because knowledge and wisdom were different, or perhaps it was something else. Whenever he tried to cast, however, he found that the spell was never quite as strong as he wanted it to be.

Whatever the reason, it didn't matter. He'd been branded far more dangerous than he was, and this...this was not going to end well.

Perhaps, though…

"I'll go with you," Aleeri said, taking a step forward, hands raised in surrender. "Please don't hurt the others."

The guns raised, and he abruptly remembered that hands in the air didn't mean much coming from a mage.

How had they surrendered to templars in the old days?

Even as he realized that none of the old texts ever talked about _that_ —something that made him wonder if the mages hadn't simply been beaten into bloody submission—Thom took a few steps forward.

"I'll come, too, but Dagna's no mage, and she was just following my lead. She—"

"Hey! I was no—"

As Dagna put an end to Thom's misguided attempt to protect her, one of the guns fired.

Aleeri held his breath, flinching from an impact that never came.

Time seemed to slow down as he looked down to see himself intact. As his eyes rose, movement to his right caught his eye, and he looked in time to see Thom fall out of view on the far side of the truck.

Dagna's eyes were huge as she shrieked and dropped down after him, crying out his name.

Magic crackled in the air. He could hear the templars shouting orders, but as he looked up at them, something inside of him simply tore open.

How _dare_ they.

Lightning crackled around the man who'd shot Thom, and he screamed in horror and agony as it seared his flesh and melted his armor to him.

Before the man had even hit the ground, dead, the other templars opened fire.

Dagna screamed again.

Aleeri braced himself, but once again, nothing hit him.

Instead, he watched as the bullets snapped into something—an invisible barrier of some sort—and then shot back at their attackers, as fast as they'd come.

The harsh-voiced woman fell with a dagger in the side of her throat, though it was gone almost as soon as it appeared.

Aleeri conjured more lightning and took out two more of the bastards before the fighting was over.

As soon as it was quiet, Aleeri raced around the truck to where Dagna and Thom were. He collapsed beside Dagna, relief flooding through them that they were still alive. Dagna was helping Thom apply pressure to where he'd been shot, but even as Aleeri struggled to remember a healing spell, Kieran tended to the wound with a wave of his hand.

Thom grimaced and pulled his hand away, staring at the bullet that had pushed out of his skin as it healed. He gave Dagna and Aleeri a wary look before turning and nodding toward Kieran. "Thank you."

"That…" Dagna whispered, jerking Thom's shirt up and running her fingers over his smooth skin, "is awesome."

"Not so much when you're the one getting shot," Thom muttered, batting her away as he stood up. He looked like he was surprised he actually could. Carefully, he turned one way and then the other, and jumped a few times. "It's really...it's like it never happened."

"Magic has a great many benefits," Kieran said as he stepped up to join them. He had three rifles over his shoulder and held out hand guns to Thom and Dagna. "I fear you're going to need these in the days to come."

As the two reluctantly took them, Aleeri looked past them to see that Kieran had robbed the dead.

Panic welled up in Aleeri's mind as what had just happened sunk in. He had killed people.

Without thinking, he moved forward and stopped beside the nearest charred body. He had done this...taken life. He ran his hands down his face, one covering his mouth as he stared at those motionless bodies.

"They would have killed all of us." Kieran's voice came from beside him, and he jumped as he turned to see the mage standing beside him. "You did what you had to do." Patting Aleeri's shoulder, Kieran motioned to the truck. "Come, we can't stay here."

Aleeri followed him mechanically, forcing himself not to look at the bodies as they drove past them.

Maker help him, but he was a murderer.

…-...

Meredith drummed her fingers against her desk as she inspected the notes she'd obtained from Dr. Clarel's research. None of the patients seemed to have come into magic, yet they were seeing things as mages saw them—cracks in the sky, demons behind faces, and more.

She would have thought it a strange mishap, but nothing worth noting, when she'd come across the dream logs. Apparently Dr. Clarel had included herself in the trial when people started talking about reoccurring dreams—something about Grey Wardens having dreams of darkspawn or some nonsense—and in it she mentioned a man who _had_ to be a mage. The journals of several different patients speculated that this mage had been the one to break the sky open, to bring magic back.

They'd also talked about an orb. Or, one of them had. Only one of their dreams had progressed that far before they'd been taken in for questioning. Unfortunately, they hadn't been a willing informant, and a few of her subordinates had taken their...persuasion a bit too far, so following up on the matter was out of the question.

While it wasn't much to go on, the Templar Order did keep its share of archaic texts, some even digitized. Meredith had found a few references to orbs, mostly during the time of the inquisitor in the Dragon Age.

If legends were to be believed, it had been an orb that had cracked open the sky then, and its owner had been…

Massaging her temples, she wondered how much truth there was in this 'Dread Wolf'. Obviously he wasn't actually a god, but that didn't mean he wasn't insanely powerful.

The mage from the dreams couldn't be the same one from so long ago, but perhaps someone else had taken up the mantle of Dread Wolf. With what they were capable of now, she didn't doubt that they would be a force to be reckoned with.

Even with lyrium—Orzammar was happy to renew its trade with the Order, though it was taking them time to reopen their old Lyrium mines—demons were still difficult to fight, as were abominations.

Meredith hummed to herself as she glanced at a small stack of papers on one corner of her desk, hidden beneath a few more mundane reports. They'd gathered a few mages, to try to understand how the demons connected to them. Stories were one thing, but it was important to hear from the people _now_.

They spoke of whispers of power, of the world being so much more than they'd thought it was, of how persuasive some of the voices could be.

Meredith had considered the fact that, in the past, mages had been trained to resist magic their whole lives. These mages clearly did not have the fortitude for such, and so they were the first...volunteers to renew the rite of tranquility.

The first five had died, but they'd finally gotten the hang of how the rite worked and now had two tranquil mages to assist around the base.

She'd sent them down into the depths of the Gallows to find her mentions of the orbs, and they had not disappointed.

They were incredibly efficient. Truly, the only downside that she could see was that they had to be told to eat and sleep, otherwise they'd just...sit there with those blank expressions.

She'd caught a few of the younger templars waving their hands in front of one of the tranquil's faces and asking him questions about what it was like.

Meredith had shooed them away and told them to leave the tranquil to their work. Still, she caught them gawking from time to time.

Regardless, it was good to know that dangerous magic could be handled in a humane way, without _killing_ the mages.

Though there was going to be pushback before she'd be allowed to openly do so. Some popstar had come out on the news last week declaring that ancient practices must not be renewed and the good people of the world—sheep that they were—were already cheering her on and insisting that tranquility was cruel, as were Circles and most other methods for keeping magic in check.

The cute little popstar, Leliana something or other, had started speaking out right after Cullen's interview.

However, even as Leliana claimed her voice to be that of 'reason', many people—people who mattered anyway—were seeing the _reason_ in Meredith's side. Little Leliana would be caught with drugs or some scandal soon enough, and her credibility and ideas would be meaningless.

It was a good thing Meredith had always been so patient.

A knock on her door drew her from her thoughts. She rose to greet Cullen as he stepped in, pulling on his uniform as though he worried he wasn't wearing it right. "You wished to see me, Knight-Commander?"

As warm a smile as she could muster graced her lips as she walked over to him and motioned for him to sit down. She leaned against her desk and appraised him carefully. He was doing better now that people believed him when he spoke of demons. He'd written everything he'd remembered about his time at Kinloch, and it had been a sordid, bloody tale. It was no wonder people had been skeptical before the realization that magic and demons were real had come out. Nevertheless, he was very good at following orders and eager to get back to work after being confined to a lonely room for so long.

"We are having a bit of pushback against our request to take magic more seriously as the danger that it is," Meredith started, smiling again when he nodded most fervently. "With or without the public's accolades, we must remain vigilant." She paused as worry swept over his features and made his back rigid. "Fortunately, however, I may know what our next move is. This...may—I do not wish to say it will, because it is so hard to get accurate information these days…" She waited until he nodded again before continuing. "I may have found what was used to bring magic back."

Cullen nearly jumped from his seat, before catching himself. Instead, he gripped the chair's arms like they were a life line. "You mean...something did this? _Someone_?"

"That remains to be seen," Meredith replied, giving him a sympathetic look. "It's an old relic, an orb. Apparently it can gather and channel magic for impossibly powerful spells—"

"We have to get it before the mages or demons do!" Cullen cried out. This time, he couldn't contain himself and leapt to his feet, terror stricken. "If they could kill so many without something like that...if they used it to do all of this—"

"Now, Cullen, please stay calm." The reprimand was gentle, but the boy flinched at it like he'd been struck. Slowly, he sunk back into his chair, looking up at her with a pleading look. "I would like to send some of our people to retrieve this orb." She paused, watching him. "I would like you to go, but I need to know that you won't...have any troubles."

"Troubles?" he echoed, a little lost.

"If you don't think you can handle it, I completely understand—"

"I can get it for you," Cullen interrupted, already on his feet again. "Anything to stop this from getting worse."

With another warm smile, Meredith rose and patted his shoulder. "Excellent. You'll leave this afternoon."


End file.
